Waiting for Spring
by Kisshulover1
Summary: "Watch out for the Sve Troll!" was the last thing Tino heard before he blacked out during the violent storm. Berwald,a hermit living on the mountain, spot's something lying buried beneath the snow. SuXFin; Love and the freezing of Nordics! Rated M. COMPLETE!
1. Trolls

**Hey, I've decided to do a holiday fanfiction for Hetalia, but now that I think about it, this particular story isn't really holiday-ish… But um…It's in the snow…And snows…in the winter holidays right? –is shot-…Anyway just enjoy this story: D SwedenXFinland and DenmarkXNorway**

…

"…His teeth are glistening, crystalline and sharp as daggers!" The young man seethed out, his hands splayed wide, eyes scanning the face of the boy before him. The small boy clutched his crudely made puffin doll, whimpering slightly. The story teller, a tall blonde man, smiled viciously.

"His hair is the color of bright corn, like flames licking up from burned villages! His eyes are the colors of the mighty sea that swallows up brave men's ships. He carries around a great sword that weighs more than ten boulders! He is rumored to be the size of a great ash tree, and he has the temperament of a bear!" The blue eyed blonde gnashed his teeth and snarled like a growling grizzly, making the child in front of him jump and twist with fear; soft tears welled up from his eyes.

The man immediately jumped up and tried to quite the child, placing his hand over the little boy's mouth to keep him from making noise, but instead the child just bit down hard on the man's gloved hands.

"Ouch! Ya' damned brat! I'll feed you to the bears-" The man was about to finish his threat when he heard the soft patter of footsteps and two skinny, pale males walked into the room, one of them carrying a tray of steaming hot mugs, the other holding a basket of small little cakes.

"Mathias, I hope you were not about to do something bad to my brother?" The dull eyed man who brought in the cakes said in a monotone voice. The story teller, Mathias, smiled weakly, dropping the small boy from his grasp.

"Ah…No, Gretel. I would never touch a hair on his cute little head…" The man muttered sourly, scooting over to a low table and grabbing a piping hot mug. He sneakily plucked the ear of the little silver haired boy, a scowl on his face. The little boy stuck his tongue out before nuzzling his toy puffin.

The second male, who had violet eyes and snow blonde hair smiled cheerfully. He handed a small cloth napkin with a spiced cake to the little boy who had stopped crying and was now chewing thoughtfully on the sweet treat.

"Sip the mead carefully Danmark, It's hot." The vapid man said to Mathias, who ignored him and instead took down large gulps of the drink. Once he had his fill he laid back and smiled a lazy smile on his lips.

"Mhhh… Tino you make the best Mead, and Gretel, you make the best spiced winter solstice cakes." The Dane said happily, tugging Gretel's hand and pulling the emotionless man on his lap.

"I might just marry the both of you for your good cooking ha ha." The Dane laughed heartedly, causing Gretel to smack the Danish man on the head with a nearby log next to hearth.

_Smack!_

"Ouch! I was kidding Norge!" The tallest of them all growled out, rubbing his sore head. The Norwegian just frowned.

"Denmark, if you suggest anything that stupid again I will kick you out into the cold until your ass freezes off." He said evenly, pushing himself off the Dane to sit next to his brother,Björt. Gretel gave the child another small cake before turning back to the Dane.

"What story were you telling him?" Tino, the smiling male asked, taking a small sip of the warm honeyed drink. Gretel's little brother immediately blanched and coward behind his brother. Mathias smiled eerily, setting his cup down on the low woodened table.

"The Tale of the Sve Troll." He whispered, his eyes flashing. Björt shuddered and closed his eyes tight, his silver hair being patted by Gretel.

"Not that silly tale again…" Tino chuckled, taking a weaved blanket from a small wooden chest and wrapping it around him. Tino remembered the tale well. His father used to tell it to him to get Tino to behave, for if he didn't, Sve the Troll would come and gobble him up. But by Now Tino had out grown the tale and no longer believed a word of it.

"Does Sve really steal children in the middle of the night? Is he really as tall as an Ash tree? Does he really sleep in a cave with bears?" The small Björt asked, his eyes were wide with a mix of fright and curiosity. Tino smiled softly and hugged his small cousin tightly.

"As long as you're a good little boy and help Gretel around the cottage with the chores, the giant Sve will not harm you. You forget Björt, Trolls are only mean and beastly to humans who tease them!" Tino said, patting the Icelandic child on the head. The small boy, seeming to be comforted by the Finn's words smiled and let loose a yawn.

"Looks like it's time for someone to get to bed." Gretel said helping pick Björt up in his arms.

"Nn… I'm not tired…" The little boy protested weakly, trying to muster up the strength to sit up from the Norwegians grasp.

"Now, now, don't make me call out the Sve Troll. You don't want me to tell him that you've been a naughty boy who's not listening to his elders?" The Norsemen said warningly, a bit of amusement in his voice as the child's eyes widened. Iceland—as the others call him went to bed without a fuss, leaving the three adults alone in the living room, the Solstice fire now dwindling down to ashes.

"Well, I best be off." The little Finnish man said as he hugged his cousin and his cousin's soon to be husband.

"You're going to go at night? But Finland, there's the beginnings of a storm outside. We have enough deer hides and furs; you can sleep in the living room?" Gretel said his voice spinning with worry.

Tino waved his hands back and forth. "It's fine. I don't want to impose. Plus, I have to get used to living alone in my cottage now, since you two are getting married in the spring." Tino said, smiling to Gretel and the Dane. The Norsemen blushed softly when the tall and broad Mathias wrapped his arms around the Norwegian, kissing his hair softly.

"You know Tino, maybe you should look into the married life as well. It would make living in that little cabin more bearable." Mathias suggested, helping Finland into his wool coat. The violet eyed man laughed softly, a sad sort of laugh before turning to look at the door.

"Denmark, I'm never going to find a husband or a wife by spring for the marriage festivals, and I've accepted it." The Finn sighed and made his way to the door, tugging on the heavy latch. Norway placed a small basket of spice cakes and a jug of mead for the Finn to keep him warm on his short journey down the hill. Tino smiled at the pair before wishing them a happy night and trudging in the snow, hearing the crunching under his feet. Then he heard Denmark's voice over the slowly starting storm.

"Watch out for the Sve Troll, Tino!"He warned the edge of laughter in his voice. Tino smiled and shook his head.

After a few minutes he felt the gnawing hunger of the frost seeping into his wool coat and goat hide boots. Damn if it wasn't the coldest night of the year, he thought bitterly.

He was halfway down the hill from his cousin and Denmark's cottage when he heard a low groan and in an instant a giant tree bow from a pine had cracked under the pressure of the heavy snow and collapsed on top of the Finn.

Tino screamed, shrill and loud, but the blistering wind carried it away into a soundless whisper. Tino desperately clawed at the tight ice, trying to free his body but finding with growing desperation that one of his legs was numb and probably broke under the tree bough. It was a couple of seconds before the pain and reality of the situation took effect and Tino felt hot tears coarse down his chin.

He was going to die. No one was going to come looking for him. Gretel and Mathias would probably find his thawed off body in the spring. Tino let out another guttered cry before letting his eyes roll back, his body shutting down under the coldness of the moon.

…

Berwald sighed once again at his barren trap. It had been three days now since he caught fresh meat and he was starting to become sick of the taste of dried old salmon and hazel nuts. His stomach growled venomously, making Berwald groan in frustration. The winters were always the hardest for him, as he couldn't go into town and get supplies as he had no money. So, he usually just scavenged silently along the mountains and forests, until, usually coming up empty handed he would return to his little cave at the bottom of his little hill and sleep the cold nights away. He smiled to himself, we was just like a common bear.

Berwald decided he would double back and follow his footsteps to his small cave and see if he could find any food along the way home, who knows maybe he would come across something interesting? _Hopefully something like food, _he thought with dulled enthusiasm.

He was making his way along the small trail when his foot got stuck in a nearby fallen tree branch and his body was thrown to the floor. He winced and tried to sit up, but looked back over his shoulder and saw that his leg was still caught in the branch. He growled in frustration and with a good sharp tug, got the tree out of the fallen snow and tossed it over behind him.

He then sat up and proceeded to dust the ice off of his pants and long cloak. He picked up his sword that had fallen along with him and slung it over his shoulder. He was about to trudge back down the hill and be on his merry way when he heard a small, faint moan. He turned behind him and saw the sleeve of what looked like a person's coat.

Berwald, instinct taking over him, pulled out his long sword and held it ready while he brushed the packed snow away. What he saw made the breath in his lungs freeze. It was a young girl, or maybe a boy? Anyway it was a person, and they had been trapped in the snow! Berwald put back his sword and hurriedly shoveled the snow off the person. After a few second he had dug out the body, which was ice cold. Berwald frowned. He placed his ear over the person's chest.

Berwald smiled. The person was still alive. His heart beat was faint, but it was there none the less. Berwald tugged on the throng that held his cloak in place, letting it slide over his shoulders. He then wrapped it up tightly around the body, making sure to tuck it in to keep the person as warm as possible. Once he was satisfied, the giant Swede lifted the person effortlessly, marveling at how light weighted they were.

"Has ta' be a g'rl." Berwald commented to himself. No man could ever be this light! Berwald balanced the person in his arms and made his way to his cave. Well, at least he did find something interesting on the mountain side. It may not be food, but Berwald was a lonesome man, and maybe the company of a cute girl would help him feel happier. Berwald blushed slightly at the thought before shaking him head and rounding around a crag of rocks. He looked up and saw his small modest cave and smiled.

"Home…" Berwald breathed into the cold air, as he made his way up the rocks, balancing his human cargo in his hands all the way.

…

**Author notes:**

**If you have any questions, just ask. **


	2. Sickness

**Happy New Years! I guess I should warn you, this chapter has a bit of nakedness. Heh **

**I do no town Hetalia or any of its characters. **

…

Berwald laid the seemingly unconscious person down on a pile of old sheep skins before turning back to a small dug out fire pit. Berwald's big tracks left slippery puddles on the cold stone floor, but with a few flicks of a flint, Berwald had a roaring fine blazing in no time and the cold walls were soon vibrating warmth.

He turned back to the stranger that he had unearthed, and decided that, to keep the girl from getting pneumonia, he had to get a fresh pair of clothes for her to wear. He began to blush slightly at the fact that he would have to undress the female himself, and re-change her with his own hands. Berwald hurriedly shook his head before rummaging through some old wicker baskets.

He was more than positive that he didn't have any skirts or dresses, but he would have to find something for his little guest. Berwald scowled as he was about to reach the end of the wicker basket, so far, no remotely female clothing until…

It was old and worn and smelled faintly like wood shavings and ale, but it _was_ a dress. Light blue with a black stripe around the waist, with cord drawstrings and a white puffy blouse for the…bosom… Berwald's blush took on the shade of deep red.

Clutching the dress in his paw like hands he proceeded to move to the young girl, who was showing small signs of life. There were soft signs of color coming back to her cheeks, and her lips were no longer blue. Berwald smiled; hopefully this lovely girl would pull through.

Berwald turned the girl over so that she was lying on her back. She made a small sound of grogginess before shivering and remaining in slumber. Berwald hesitated as he began to peel off the ice cold clothing. He couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed as first her coat was removed to show a patch of smooth neck. But this had to be done. She would freeze to death if her wet clothes weren't removed, so Berwald ventured forward, his hands clumsily shaking.

One after the other, a scarf, goat hide slippers, woolen socks, faded blue with small embroidery, and even a small hidden pouch, tied by string. Berwald placed the small pouch on a near bye stool and continued his quest. Berwald then paused as he got to a certain piece of clothing. A jerkin? Only men wore those… Berwald's face took on a puzzled mask as he began to strip away the clothing till he came to a low cut tunic which was sopping wet. Berwald ran his hand lightly over the scratchy fabric before pulling back immediately. This woman was wearing trousers.

Berwald furrowed his brows together. He dipped his hands under the utnic and heaved it up, cautious of the fact that, if he lifted it up too far, her breasts would be exposed. But, wait. Berwald, needing to know once and for all what the trickery before his eyes was, bit his lip and thrust his hands, palms flat, onto the strangers chest, his eyes shut tight as his fingers wandered.

Either this women had a very flat chest or… Berwald made a very, very, big mistake.

The said person immediately thrashed around at Berwald's touch; tossing her-no, _his_, head back and forth. At once the Swede moved his hands away and just stared at the boy. Berwald rubbed his brow between his glasses. Yes, now he saw it. This stranger was indeed male. Though petite, the hair was short, wet, and clinging to the scalp. The jaw line, though smooth with not a speck of gruff, was masculine in a way, and the body, so frail looking, had glimpses of sinew muscle. This was the body of a peasant boy, weak and mal nourished.

Berwald, still feeling awkward about the removal of clothing, be this person male or female, began to heave up the tunic, lifting the boys arms up to get the sleeves off. The boy whimpered, his stiff limbs making groaning sounds. _The cold was not kind to this lad_, Berwald thought bitterly, looking to the mouth of the cave and hearing the winds howl.

After the last of the boys clothing was removed, with furious blushing, and covering of innocent eyes on Berwald's part, the humble Swede disregarded the worn dress he had prepared, and instead placed a, two sizes too large, Chemise on the boy's body. Though Berwald did take a few looks at the young man's body, he only got a look at the silken chest.

Berwald didn't know if it was the coldness of the storm that made the boy's body gleam pale and fair, or a trick of the eye, but Berwald marveled in it. His fingers longed to brush away that insipid blonde hair and lay a sweet, prince-like kiss on this boys lip. Berwald stopped in mid thought. No. The mountains have been whittling away at his sanity. Though the Gods did not frown upon such a union, Berwald was incapable of being loved, be it by male or female. That's why he was here in the first place. Berwald frowned.

As if forgetting the reawaken memories had never resurfaced, Berwald busied himself by hanging the wet and ruined clothes on a wooden bough next to the fire, Berwald made a makeshift bed out of sheepskins and nestled the boy in the wooly warmth.

After the boy was tucked in, Berwald went about scavenging something to eat. He had gone without breakfast this morning and his stomach was growling loudly, the sound drifting to his ears. He scavenged around the cave for anything, any bite of rye bread, some potatoes, or even a bit of pickled herring. Nothing.

Berwald decided, if there was nothing to be found in the comfort of the cave, he would have to venture outside. Berwald, making sure that the fire would still be going when he got back; he bundled up in a scarf and heaved his heavy blue cloak over his shoulders.

Then, as he was about to head for the entrance to the cave, he heard a small whine, almost a cry. He turned around and saw that the boy had rolled around on the skins and was moaning softly. Berwald quickly stepped over to the wriggling young man.

"M'st be fev'r." Berwald murmured to himself. He shuffled around the rocks of the cavern before bringing back a small clay jug. Holding it outside the lip of the cave, he quickly filled it with packed snow. Walking over to the restless man, Berwald hastily let the snow melt into cool water, dowsing it with a scrapped rag and gently pressing it against the boy's forehead.

The boy's face was flushed bright red as his eyelids fluttered. Berwald panicked. This young man couldn't die, Berwald needed a friend, and he needed a human being to talk to. Berwald sat the boy up on his lap and wrapped him up in any bit of cloth, any bit of warmth he could find, and yet the boy still trembled.

"_Inte__dö."_ He breathed into the shivering strangers hair. Then Berwald remembered something that his father had taught him. If someone had a high enough fever that was life threatening and there was no medicine to be found, there was only one thing to do. Berwald's glasses fogged up and a heavly laddened blush settled over his cheeks. Body warmth. The wonderful act of sharing body heat in the nude.

Berwald sighed. It had to be done, he only hoped his little friend wouldn't think Berwald was a pervert or anything. So, at once Berwald began to strip off his cloak and his simple tunic. By the time he was done, he was shiverig violently in a wrapped up sheepskin with only thin trouseres to keep him from the nipping cold. He trotted over to the fire and stoked it with new timber till the flame danced heartedly against the cold grey walls of the cave.

Next, the giant Swede dragged the still twisting and moaning boy closer to the fire, yet not too close to the flame, as to keep the sheep's skins from catching fire. Berwald then, instead of just stripping the boy naked and having the lad wake up to being cuddled by a giant Swedish man, decided to tell the sick man of his treatment. Berwald was sure that would just make things increasingly awkward if he didn't at least warn the stranger. So, instead, being the polite person that he was, he decided to wake up the smaller man and inform him of what Berwald was going to do for the sake of his life.

"Hnnn… W'ke up, boy…" Berwald shook the man gently, only having the blonde smack his cheek with his hand. Berwald sat their stunned, but not defeated. He gently held the man's frail arms with one hand, as the other gently patted the boy's cheek.

"Sve…" The person's pink lips breathed out. Berwald froze. Sve? As in…him? Berwald blushed slightly. Berwald tapped the person's cheeks again, only this time to have the person's eyes fly open. They were the most beautiful thing the Swedish man had ever seen. Delicate, violet orbs that took his very breath away… and they looked scared as Hel*.

"Wh-who are you?" Was the sharp question that made Berwald's heart stop. This male's voice was beautiful, smooth, and sweet. It took Berwald a minute to realize he had been asked a question, and a very serious one at that.

"You… C'ld in sn'w. Me s've you…" Berwald mumbled out, pushing his glasses up on his face and giving the man some room.

Tino drifted his gaze from Berwald's stony face to look around the cave. It wasn't the most lavish shelter in the world, but it was nice and snug and the warm fire that breathed at Tino's back was heavenly after being in that storm. Then Tino remembered. He was making his way to his cabin when he blacked out.

"The tree branch!" The Finn gasped out. Berwald nodded before sitting up and making his way to the ceramic jar that was perched upon a woodened table, he held it up to the now conscious man. The boy, who looked more handsome than before now that Berwald could see his gorgeous eyes, took the cup gratefully, sipping the cool water. After the man had had his fill of the cool liquid his stomach growled feverishly. Berwald raised his brows, as the stranger blushed.

"I'm sorry… I didn't have much to eat today." The Finn admitted. Berwald nodded and sat up; deciding that he would go back outside and search or some food, but a cold hand on his unusually hot skin stopped him. It was then that Berwald realized he had no shirt on, and it seemed his guest had noticed it to.

Tino only paused for a second at looking at the man's sculpted muscles. They were chiseled and rigid, a sight that took Tinos breathes away. The Finn, for some unknown reason had the urge to splay his hands and explore that expanse of skin, that is, until he looked at the body's head. The man that had saved him had a scowl that was deeper than any river, and wider than any valley. Tino suddenly did not feel so safe in his care.

"I um…I have food I my knapsack." The timid Finn explained his eyes wide at the evident glare in the giant's eyes. Then it hit Tino. _Giant_… Tino swallowed hard. Tino remember the sheer size of the tree branch that toppled over him not but a few hours ago. The tree was huge; gigantic in length and width, and the bough that had brought the Finn down was no mere twig.

Either this man had uncanny strength or… _He was the Sve Troll_. A shock ran through Tino that kept his eyes wide, breath erratic. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. The fever, the repressed sickness that had been steadily getting better in his system, leap at his frail body.

Berwald was about to bring the knapsack back to the stranger when all the sudden he heard a pained moan and saw Tino, his head lulled back, body spasmodically turning. His fever was back. Berwald cursed the damn storm that had done this to this poor boy.

In an instant Berwald had the wash cloth to the boys head and was pleading for him to wake up. After much shaking and murmuring from the Swede, the blonde finally opened his eyes, his face flushed, lips pursed. Berwald tried his best to calm him down.

"Yoo be a'rig't. Let me h'lp c're fev'r?" Berwald asked, cupping the males face with his hands. Tino, a bit frightened, nodded. He felt like he was on fire, if he could he would run out into the snow and bury him in the snowy crystals, it was too damn hot!

"T-Tino…" The Finnish man breathed out. "My name…is Tino." Tino's breath was now erratic.

Berwald let out a softening smile. "Berwald. I'll s've ya' T'no. Yoo h've tr'st me? Ok'y?" Berwald could feel the Finnish mans strength waning. Tino nodded, laying his head back in the sheep skins. Berwald nodded to himself, and proceeded to lift off the Finn's chemise. Wide eyes greeted Berwald as the clothing was removed.

"Heat good. Th's only way." Berwald said in his broken accent. Tino, understanding the Giant meant no harm, allowed his only clothing to be thrown into a wicker basket. Tino, ever the shy one, wrapped himself up tightly in a fur, trying to hide his manhood.

Tino watched with a blushing curiosity as his savior, the Sve troll began to strip of his trousers, leaving himself in just his long underwear. Tino knew that under those was the sex of the great beast. Tino shivered with what emotion he did not dare name and hid his now more reddish face in the folds of pelts.

In a few seconds, Berwald had slipped into the pile of skins and clutched blindly for the small male. Discarding his glasses, Berwald slipped his arms around Tino's waist and held him close. Tino let out a very unmanly yelp as he was pushed closer to the Trolls…well… Tino couldn't dare say it let alone think it.

"Go sleep. Yoo get b'tter." Berwald murmured atop Tino's head. Tino, not able to keep sleep from his body any longer, let the giant troll embrace him in warmth, as his fever slowly subsided well into the night.

…**.**

**Maybe making this rated "Teen" was a bit too hasty? Anyway I hoped you liked this chapter.**

***Hel- Norwegian version of a beast that guards the gates of Hel in Norse mythology. **


	3. Husband?

**I'm really starting to like this story haha! And for those who are interested, this story is actually an idea based off of an old Swedish ballad about a Troll who asks a knight to marry her called "Herr Mannelig". Reviews are always appreciated(damn it review!) :D I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. **

…**.**

Tino awoke to the soft sound of pattering of water. He softly opened one of his eyes, wincing at the sputtering light that boldly flooded through his messy bangs. He yawned and wrapped himself back up in his furs, reasoning with himself that a few more minutes of rest couldn't hurt him. So, curling back into the frothy warmth that surrounded him he shut his eyes tight and lulled back to sleep. That is, until he felt something shift next to him. Tino, eyes opened immediately, his instincts taking control.

He sat up in with cold fright, hugging his arms to his warm coat, only realizing that it wasn't a coat, but a pile of sheep skins, scratchy and warm. Tino flashed his eyes around his new and unfamiliar surroundings. His violet eyes met with cold stone and flickers of a dying flame in a small fire pit. He sat up, huddling in the skins, teeth chattering. He tried to crawl out from under the skins, only to realize with horror, that he was completely naked.

"OhmyGods…" He breathed with utter terror. Where was he? Had he been kidnapped? Was he being held hostage in _Antero Vipunen's_ grave? Was he going to be eaten? Tino felt tears streak his cheeks. He was in some unknown hovel, and by the Gods he was probably going to be cooked and eaten! He sobbed quietly in the slowly chilling cave till he heard a low growl.

In a flash the little Finn turned his head down towards the sound to see the froth of sheep skins split and crumple open to reveal a pale shoulder, the color of a sleek white bone. And then the shuttering mass erupted into what Tino guessed was a man, a very large man! Whose hair was in an upturn of throws, looking like a lions mane, and whose gaze, dizzy with sleep looked like it could kill any man by just one glare. Tino fell deathly silent.

"Hnnn…Fe'v'r g'ne?" The now awakening giant asked Tino. Tino's eyes widened. Fever? What fever- Tino's mouth was left agape. Of course, last night, he had an accident in the snow, and a man, no; the Troll saved him and tried to help him with his fever. It was all coming back to the Finn.

"Ah…Yes. Sve-Ah, Ber-Berwald. Thank you." He mumbled out, wrapping a pelt across his shoulders. Berwald nodded once before sitting up and rummaging around him till he sat himself down again and placed a large wicker basket in his lap. He then shifted and waded his fingers through the contents of the crudely made basket before whisking out an old patched up blue tunic. Pushing it over his head, he let the wrinkled clothing hide his wide frame.

Tino watched with both caution and curiosity as the giant of a man stiffly walked along the cave before unhooking Tino's now dried clothing. Placing them neatly before the Finn, he nodded to the pile and turned his back, giving Tino what privacy he could.

Tino stared at the clothes for a brief moment before hurriedly placing his long underwear, trousers, and tunic over his now once again cold body. While the Finn was changing Berwald had added fresh fuel to the fire and placed a tin kettle over the flame, stuffing it with fresh snow from last night's storm Tino guessed.

Once Tino was dressed, he allowed his eyes to wander over the cave. Finding nothing of great interest, only the remains of a lonely hermit. Tino smiled softly to himself. _Trolls will not hurt a human unless provoked._ He remembered his own words. Maybe the Sve Troll was just lonely, if he saved Tino from the storm, then surely he was a friend, right? Tino nodded to himself. Sure he was a bit…scary…. And disturbing…Monstrous, dogmatic looking, and down right frightful. But the fact that he had enough kindness to take Tino in made the little Finn want to give this great brute of a man some kindness.

"Here. Foo'" The sudden sound made Tino jump.

"Ah!" He yelped, scrunching up his shoulders. Berwald frowned, down casting his eyes.

Tino turned around to see the Tall man, holding a wooden bowl full of the small cakes Tino had made with Norway earlier, and a clay mug of the Mead. Tino took them with much eagerness, and began pushing the food in his mouth and gulping down the scorching liquid.

Berwald smiled as he watched the little man gobble down the sweets. Berwald would have to ignore his growling stomach for now, letting the little one eat his fill. And boy did he. Berwald chuckled softly as he watched Tino stuff the almond covered cakes in his pale little cheeks, making him resemble a cute little squirrel.

After the fifth cake Tino suddenly realized that eyes were on him. He paused in his mad eating to turn his head up to face the Sve. Tino, blushing slightly at the fact that he must look like a glutton, pushed the woodened bowl to Berwald.

"You must be hungry too." He did his best to smile at the glaring man. Berwald twitched his eyes to the bowl before shaking his head.

"Yoo sick. Need foo. I f'ne." He reasoned, pushing the plate to the younger male. Tino frowned, his eyes stubborn.

"There is enough here for the both of us!" The Finn said, shoving the bowl back in front of Berwald. Berwald sighed. He was hungry…

Reaching out clumsy hands, he plucked the smallest of the cakes and popped it in his mouth, ignoring the crumbs that fell freely from his lips.

Tino couldn't help but giggle at the scene portrayed in front of him. Berwald looked like a bad mannered bear, munching on the food with clumsiness. He laughed again when Berwald asked what the small Finn was laughing at.

"You look like a bear!" He smiled simply, taking another long draught of his mead and offering it to Berwald. Berwald took the cup and frowned, not sure if he should take the bear remark as a compliment or not. When his lips touched the warm honeyed liquid, his eyes widened and his tongue tingled. It was like nothing he had ever tasted. Actually, the cakes themselves were very delicious as well.

"Is good. W'fe make?" Berwald asked shyly, watching Tino's expression. Berwald really hoped the Finn wasn't married. He rather liked the idea of this little lad being single and all to himself. A man gets lonely up here in the mountains, and well….Tino sure was nice to look at.

Tino coughed on the Troll's remark.

"Ah, no. I'm not married. To neither man nor women. I made these with my cousin, just yesterday." Tino whispered carefully, his cheeks tinting. Was it the fever that was making his ears grow hot and his stomach twitch? Or was it something else… Tino shook his head. Whatever it was it had to wait.

"So Berwald…" Tino broke the seemingly thick silence. Berwald looked up from his half eaten cake.

"You live up here? All on your own?" Tino asked, wiping his clothing free of the crumbs. He sat up and started folding all the foul smelling pelts and placing them in a corner of the cave.

"Not all t'me. Bear Sleep w'th me some t'me." He said, gesturing towards the back of the cave were there was not sunlight nor flicker of the flame. Tino's stomach lurched. Bears? This man-no, Troll, slept in the same cave as bears?

"No Bear now. But l'st year I had f'm'le 'n cubs." Berwald piled on a few more twigs on the roaring fire, dispelling all the coldness of the stone shelter.

Tino's mind started to wander, conjuring up seemingly cute pictures of Berwald snuggling with a whole pile of grizzly bears during the cold weather. It brought a smile to his face.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Berwald stood up and began to arm himself with various types of clothing. Tino watched curiously as a dark blue coat was draped across the troll's shoulders. _For a Troll_, Tino thought, _he sure is handsome when he's not giving me the death glare…_

"Me Go. F'nd more foo." Berwald said in his broken accent, which Tino had already gotten used to.

"Are you sure, the sun won't hurt?*" Tino asked, a worried tone to his voice.

Berwald looked quizzical at the young man._ Why would the Sun hurt him?_ Berwald furrowed his brows. Tino, sensing the confusion, cleared his thoat and tried to smile.

"Ah…Never mind." He murmured, turning away, his face flushed in embarrassment. Berwald, still left standing as confused as ever, grunted and turned back to the exit of the cave. Tino, still clutching his piping hot cup of mead between his fingers to get warm watched as the Giant stomped out of the cave and into the bright sunshine of the blinding snow. The storm had stopped, so maybe some food might be found, Tino hoped.

After the first few minutes alone in the cave, the silence and boredom finally got the better of the Finn, and Tino felt that he just had to investigate the cave! After washing out the dirty mugs and bowl with the quickly melting snow, the blonde made his way further into the deepening cavern.

…

This was Berwald's lucky day. He had managed to catch a small rabbit that was bounding up the hill close to the river near Berwald's cave. It was a skinny thing, but it would be able to feed the small boy. Berwald smiled. It felt good to be able to care for someone again. After his parents died when he was young, Berwald had been alone. With no kin to take care of he just took to the mountains. Wandering until he found a cave that was big enough to house him.

By the time he was a teen. Berwald could hunt, fish, carve, and take care of himself as well as any man. He was strong and big, broad and tall, and he caught the eye of whoever saw him. That's why he lived like a hermit. People around the village started making nasty rumors. Rumors about him being a monster. A monster who stole children in the night, or who ate peoples live stock. It hurt Berwald, Just because he was different, taller than most, and quieter than all. He was labeled a _jætte or _v_itterfolk. _Berwald cringed. Troll.

He stomped more violently in the snow, careful of the rabbit in his knapsack, trying to not damage the carcass. They needed all the meat he could get. Berwald smiled. They… The Swede could not help but blush at that word. Berwald had to face it. His stone cold heart was beginning to soften. And it was all because of that beautiful gift from the Gods. Berwald had to do everything in his power to keep Tino by his side. He would not let something so cute slip out of his grasp. No way in Hel.

…

All Tino had found in the cave was a few saved trinkets, some old musty chests that held nothing of particular value, and a few old pots and pans for cooking. Tino frowned. Weren't Trolls supposed to have mounds and mounds of gold lying around? He stamped his foot in annoyance.

Tino sighed and plopped his body down on the comfy sheepskin. He felt his head swirl with all his might as he tried to calm down. He was in a Trolls cave. And nice Troll, but still a Troll. Tino bit his lip. He started to miss his nice cottage, with the blue door and the small barrels of flowers blooming in his garden. Spring was drawing near, and the foxgloves would be sprouting soon. Tino sighed. Spring was just around the corner and still Tino was alone. With no wife or husband to show for it. His youthful bloom wasted.

This would be another year that he would have to sit out as the young couples gathered around the spring bonfire and leap over the coals for good luck, and then they would eat a wonderful feast of jams and jellies, honeyed bread and crisp big and venison. Tino grumbled sourly. And this year it was Gretel's turn. How come his cousin had found a husband (no matter how stupid mind you,) but Tino still had no one.

This only angered the Finn more, as he slammed his fist into the rickety table that decorated the cave.

"I want a husband, damnit!" The little man huffed.

"….um."

Tino looked up with a squeak. Turning around he saw Berwald, his clothes soaked from the melting snow, holding up a small brown rabbit by the ears.

"Ah…Sorry Berwald. I was just…Talking to myself." He said shyly, taking the scrawny animal from the giant.

"Want me to cook this for you?" he offered, already heating up a big pot of water on the coals. He sat a plank of wood on his lap and began to skin the rabbit with ease.

"I live alone too, so I'm good with cooking." He explained, busying himself with the meal.

"Husband?" Berwald questioned, still in the cave entrance, ignoring his dripping clothes.

Tino twitched in his seat. _Oh Crap…_ He thought. _Now he's going to think I'm insane!_ Tino thought with grief. Tino began to chop up the meat, being careful to not get any of the blood on his clothes.

"I-I was just feeling a bit jealous. Because, well, because my cousin is getting married at the Spring festivals and I always get a bit sad at those times because I've never been proposed to, let alone courted! And I've just always wanted to have a crown of flowers on my head, my spouse by my side as we sing and dance and eat, and then retire to the beds-"Tino abruptly stopped. Had he been rambling? He turned his head to see Berwald, who had the same stern face as before. Then, the sharp blonde uttered a small sentence that made his hear lurch.

"I could be husb'nd…" It was said simply, obviously. And yet it made Tino fall flat on his ass.

…

**Oh I love Berwald and his awesome ideas. **

**Antero Vipunen's- A giant who appears in Finnish mythology who ****the god-hero Väinämöinen tries to awake from his grave. **

"Are you sure, the sun won't hurt?*"-** In Scandinavian folklore it was said that if a Troll went outside in the sun he or she would turn to stone. **

**jætte or vitterfolk- Swedish for Giant or Troll**


	4. Up in Flames

**Dude's and Dudett's. Thank you for all the faves! I need more though for my regeneration to be complete! I do not own Hetalia, if I did, they'd all be naked. :D**

**I am so sorry for the crappy text, but fanfiction won't let me submit it any other way.**

**…**

Tino had uprooted the makeshift wooden cutting board and flung it up in the air with a twitch of his arms. It landed with a large _thunk!_ Along with a good portion of the meat. Berwald immediately stepped to his knees and began to pick up the bloodied mess, relived that some of the meat had been spared from the tumble and was still edible. Placing the meat on a wooden plate, he handed Tino a wash cloth, noticing that the little man was still a bit jumpy, from what the Swede had no clue.

Tino, shocked with himself and his jitteriness, quickly took the cloth from Berwald and began to clean his hands, then he took the corner of the cloth and helped sop up the mess, thinking bitterly that the cave, even when clean of the blood, would still smell dank. If only he hadn't over reacted. Berwald must have been joking. Yes. Joking. Tino laughed nervously. He wouldn't really want to be the Finn's husband. Tino wasn't even sure a mortal could marry a Troll!

After the mess was cleaned up and the remaining rabbit meat was put in the pot, Berwald noticed something from the corner of his eyes. It was a long string of scarlet, curling under Tino's wrist and then glided along his slender index finger. Berwald immediately shifted to Tino's side, eyes still trained on the warm flowing liquid. He grasped Tino's arm by the upturn of his elbow and gently yanked the smaller man to him. Tino yelped in surprise, nearly tripping over a pile of twigs near the fire.

Berwald, ignoring the confused blond, took a bit of his tunic in his hand and ripped the coarse fabric in a long vertical strip. Tino, eyes widened, finally caught sight of his wound. It wasn't very large, just a little cut he must have gotten when he threw the cutting board from his hands along with the knife. He tried to shrug it off but Berwald wouldn't hear of it, instead the giant began to clean the wound and dress it with the spare cloth from his ripped tunic.

Once the wound was cleaned and Berwald let Tino out of his arms, a wave of awkwardness hit Tino like a ton of bricks. Yet apparently it had no effect on the tall Troll.

"Um…. Well. Do you have any spices to go along with the meat?" Tino asked. Cooking would keep his mind off of his savior for a while, plus, no matter how tender rabbit meat was, it would still taste bland without some spices.

Without saying a word, Berwald shuffled through a few jars, all sealed with some familiar wording on them.

Finally picking a jar to his liking, the tall broad man handed it to Tino, pointing with callous fingers to the scratched title of the jar. "C'rdam'm."He said gruffly. It took Tino a few seconds to realize what he had said.

"Oh! Cardamom! Yes, this would go excellent with the meat! If only we had a bread pudding for dessert!" The Finn smiled, setting to work by salting the meat with the spice and then placing it in a low metal bowl above the fire, adding various things until the food was slowly morphing into a thick stew. Along with Berwald's help and a few more added ingredients, the stew was cooking at a nice rate, Tino observed.

"Sve-Berwald." Tino corrected himself. "I noticed your accent is very strong, from where are you from?" Tino asked, stirring the thick broth that was now starting to bubble.

Berwald sat himself down next to Tino. "Sw'd'n." he breathed, his mouth watering slightly from the cooked meat. Boy could Tino cook. If Berwald really could marry the little man, then maybe Tino would cook for him like this all the time. He would be like Berwald's little _Maka_. A healthy blush blew over Berwald's face.

"Wh're yoo f'om?" Berwald asked, shifting towards the smaller man. Tino smiled softly. "Helsinki. But I moved along the Finnish-Swedish border with my two cousins and my cousin's fiancé last year." He said with a memorable smile. Berwald nodded.

So that's why he was saying such things about marriage. His cousin was getting married. Berwald twirled his thumbs in his lap. Well, if the Finn really did want a spouse…

"Anyway, sorry about that whole 'wanting a husband thing'." Tino laughed uneasily, still stirring the soup. If only he knew for sure if Berwald was joking. Sure, it would be nice to tend to his own little cottage, with marigolds and ringlets of daffodils outside his cottage, and then have his handsome husband come home and then they would drink cider and cuddle and retire to bed. There was nothing Tino wanted more! But… to have his certain someone be…Berwald? When Berwald didn't respond Tino decided to sneak a quick peek at the Swede, only wishing he hadn't.

The Swede's face was set in a deep frown. His lips grooved, and his eyes concentrated on, who could have guessed it? Tino. The small Finn let out an unmanly yap, flinching slightly, his hands still poised over the pot. Berwald's face was terrifying! His high cheek bones and deep set eyes made him look like a hungry wolf. If only he wasn't so scary looking. Tino bit his lip.

Berwald, wondering why his little wife had suddenly shrieked, leaned forward to press his forehead against Tino's. Tino's face immediately grew hot, his eyes as wide as the stars.

Berwald frowned, feeling the temperature of the other through his skin. The Finn's skin was abnormally hot. Perhaps he was still suffering from the fever? Berwald hoped not. He couldn't bear the thought of his little wife sick! Berwald pulled his forehead from Tino's and grasped the wooden spoon from the Finn's clutched hands. Berwald reached for the pot on the fire, when the Finn swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch the metal! You'll hurt yourself!" He said worryingly. Berwald jerked away, surprised at the Finn's tone.

" 's not hot." Berwald explained, trying to grab the steel pot again. Tino grabbed the giant's wrist.

"I know that, but Steel is bad for you isn't it?" Tino asked through hissed teeth, his eyes showing wild concern. Berwald tilted his head to the side.

"Why w'uld steel h'rt meh?" Berwald asked, finally reaching for the pot. Tino watched with weary curiosity as the pot was lifted from the fire and set down on the rock floor, hissing slightly from the condensed moisture on the ground.

Tino starred in shock. Maybe the myth wasn't true…He thought sourly. Somehow Berwald was beginning to elude every Troll Myth Tino had ever heard as a child. He sulked, hands crossed over his chest, lips pouted.

Berwald decided that, as soon as Tino had some food in his cute little belly, he would send the boy off to bed. The lithe boy needed as much rest as he could get if he was to help fight the fever that seemed to be coming back. Making a gruff noise at his decision, he stood up swiftly.

Berwald had wandered off to the back of the cave, coming back with two small wooden bowls, artfully crafted. Berwald ladled a big healthy portion into each bowl, making sure to give Tino most of the meat. He gave Tino his bowl, along with a small wooden spoon. Tino, still blushing from such a close encounter with the male, took small spoonfuls, tasting the wonderful, yet simple broth on his tongue. He then began to chew thoughtfully on the meat, which was he noted, was a bit undercooked, but still good none the less.

He turned to Berwald and couldn't help but smile. The tall bear-like Swede had tilted his bowl to his lips and was slurping up the sluggish liquid. Tino felt something in the pit of his stomach, something he had never felt before. It was warmth that was building up inside him, filling him up like flittering butterflies. And it scared him a bit. How could he feel such emotion for a Troll? A Troll!

Berwald, sensing something wrong, lowered the bowl from his lips to stare humbly at the little Finn. Thinking that the reason Tino had stopped eating was because of the Swedes manners, Berwald immediately wiped his soup drooled mouth with the corner of his sleeve and began to shovel in the soup with his spoon.

"Berwald…" Tino began, trying to fill in the impending silence that rang throughout the cave. "Did you make all these bowls?" he asked.

Berwald, finishing the last of the stew, nodded. He gestured Tino to keep eating as he took his own bowl and began to wash it in a small bucket of water with lye soap. He had only one bar left; he would have to go into town to buy more for the two of them. Berwald blushed more, trying to push back the eagerly forming fantasies that were occurring more and more. Tino might want a bath soon; perhaps it would help keep the fever from coming back? Berwald shook his head. That was going too far.

After two more bowls of stew, the Finn smiled and rubbed his hands over his now full belly. Damned if that wasn't one of the best meals he ever had. He offered to help clean up the pot and utensils but his host wouldn't have it. Instead Berwald just pointed to a pile of skins, motioning Tino that it was time to sleep.

The Finn looked out the cave entrance and noted that, it was indeed dark outside. The sun had long since gone down below the hills, and the trees were topped with slowly forming stars, the sky just an inked blur. It was one of Tino's favorite times of day. Nearly night, but with a few hints of the last seconds of day.

In the distance the roll of thunder could be heard in the valley and Tino, worrying that it would frighten Berwald, turned to the taller man. Yet the impending noise of Thor's wrath did not shake the man, who was now getting ready for bed. Tino, letting his eyes linger on that strong powerfully built chest for just a few seconds longer, smiled to himself. Even if Berwald was a Troll, he sure didn't act or looked like one. A quite yawn pressed from the Finn's mouth, sleep finally capturing him unwillingly.

Tino slowly shuffled to the skins, peeling off his jerkin, tunic, boots and sash. Leaving himself in just his trousers. He decided it was good enough, as he slipped into the sheep skins. He rested his head against the makeshift blankets and quickly fell asleep, eye lidded shut, cheeks still flushed. He felt safe in the cave that had now become his home. Berwald would protect him, Tino thought happily.

…

_Crack! Snap! Crack!_

Tino woke with a start. He sat up, breath hitched in his throat. Something was happening, something bad. He could feel it in his heart. His chest hurt and his nose stung. Something was definitely wrong. He pushed the furs off his body, and quickly found his tunic, shoving it over his head he began to search around the cave, trying desperately to find Berwald.

The air seemed thicker, as a tangible stench filled his nose and traveled to his lungs. He coughed wildly, stumbling in the thick darkness of the cave. He felt his hands hit the warm sensation of flesh. He clutched at what he guessed was Berwald's arm. He shook Berwald hurriedly. The giant groaned, not wanting to be woken up

"Berwald! Berwald something isn't right! Please, get up!" Tino yelled, his voice becoming more strained, his eyes becoming panicked.

At the sound of the Finn's voice, Berwald awoke from his slumber. He sat up, flinging his deer skin hide off of his body. Tino, hands still painfully wrapped around his arms, pulled him up, shouting something at him, something that Berwald couldn't make out. Then he saw it. From the mouth of the cave he could see long corded spirals of searing color. Scarlet, gold, and orange- The forest was on fire. Luckily though, they still had time. It looked as though only the trees on the left side of the mountains hill had caught fire, leaving them a good bit of time before they were in any real danger. Berwald, going into warrior mode, turned to Tino. He placed his hands on the Finn's shoulders, palms trying their best to not dig into the male's small bones.

"Ber….Berwald! Wh…what's happ…happening?" The Finn sobbed. His breath took in loud gulps of air, making it harder to breathe due to the smoke. This only frightened Tino more. Hecouldn't help but feel alarmed. He felt sick to his stomach and he didn't know why. It was boiling, so indescribably scorching!

Berwald needed Tino's attention, and he needed it now. If Tino started to panic on him then he might accidentally get hurt. And if Tino got hurt, Berwald couldn't live with himself. Berwald needed him calm. Without thinking, Berwald pressed his lips hard against the Finn's, thumbs gliding underneath his violet eyes to wipe away the offending tears. It was no more than a few seconds that their lips met, but it was enough to quite the Finn. Eyes still wide, Tino just stared at the giant.

_Did….Did he just kiss me?_ Tino thought, all thoughts of the danger gone. Berwald turned away from him, and quickly ran to the pile of wicker baskets at the back. Handing a medium sized one to Tino he gestured for Tino to grab anything of value. Tino, finally getting over his initial shock, nodded and began to shove skins, pots, spoons, old clothing, anything that might have value into the wicker basket. Inside his stomach was churning. He had been kissed. His first kiss. He shook his head and continued with his task.

His fingers clumsily carded through heaps of leather boar hides, and even a few paper bound books, placing them haphazardly in the almost full basket. It was then, that his hands touched something soft and small. Grasping the object in his hand, Tino saw in the blazed light from outside that it was a small child's plaything, a small toy dog, made from white rabbit's fur. The little animal had obsidian stone eyes sewed on with expert care, and a small little pink dyed tongue sticking out. Tino, amidst the chaos of the moment, clutched the small dog toy to his chest and gripped the basket in his other hand.

He stumbled back from the cave wall to find Berwald, strapping a huge long sword to his back. "_He carries around a great sword that weighs more than ten boulders!"_ Tino remembered Denmark's words with sunken fright. He froze, his eyes glued on the man in front of him. Maybe it was the fact that Tino was sill in panic from the ever growing fire, or maybe it was that his fever had not died down yet, but Tino felt his cheeks grow hot at the sight of the giant.

Berwald had not bothered to place a shirt over his exposed torso; instead, he was only wearing dark blue trousers, tied by a leather cord. And Tino didn't know if it was the trick of the new glowing light around the cave, but to him, Berwald was starting to look very handsome and very…sexy. Yes that was the word. And Tino was not afraid to admit it. But before the Finn could stare any longer, the tall Swede had grabbed Tino's full basket and placed it atop of Berwald's own.

He then strapped the two baskets down with a few rawhide cords, and then, placing them back down he stooped quickly to Tino. Tino, wondering what the giant man was doing, yelped loudly as he was thrown over Berwald's shoulder like a stolen bride. Berwald patted Tino's rump, unknowingly, in an assuring manner.

"Yoo s'fe up here. It easy to c'rry yoo." He said, his voice sounding scratching from the now frequently rising smoke. He placed Tino's trembling hands around his sturdy neck, telling to not let go as if his life depended on it. Which it did, Tino thought with fright.

Then Berwald hauled up the two big baskets in his strong arms and swiftly stumbled out of the mouth of the cave, feeling a flicker of sadness that he would have to leave his home. But it was gone in an instant as he gazed outside. It was horrible and so amazing at the same time.

Blackness and color, melding in together at the same time, the sickening dance of flames around the forest floor. Steam from the hissing snow as it came in contact with the hellish flames, producing a curtain of burning mist that soaked his pants. It was a flood of heat that raced over Berwald's face and he coughed violently. He had to get out of there; he had to get his wife to safety! Taking up his courage he began to swerve left and right through the flames, trampling over fallen charred logs and crackling spews of embers that stung his poorly shoed feet. But he pressed on, he pressed on for his little wife.

As they descended down the mountain, Tino kept his eyes shut tightly. He wanted to go home. He didn't want to be locked in the wrath of Mother Nature. He wanted to be nice and snug in his cozy quilt, he wanted to go out and see the bright sunshine of spring, he wanted to go hunting for fish in the _Tornionjoki_ River and sit in the meadows and eating plump berries with his cousins. He didn't want to be in a raging fire, being carried like a damsel in distress by a studly Swedish Troll! Tino blushed madly. Okay... Maybe the company of a hot swedish Troll was acceptable.

But that wasn't the point now! Tino thought embarrassedly! He clutched at Berwald neck again, burying his face in the strong musky odor of the man. He smelled like smoke and cool pine. Tino paused. No longer did he feel the scorching heat on his face. He cracked one of his eyes open to see that, no longer where they in the rampant storm of the inferno, but where down the path a few miles away. Berwald had run all the way down the mountain crags to the small dirt trail that led to Tino's village.

Tino wriggled atop Berwald's shoulder, signaling that he wanted to be let down. But the giant wouldn't have it, saying that Tino was still too sick and that he needed to take it easy. To Which Tino kicked his feet in the air like a crazy child and started to swear. Berwald sighed and set the fuming Finn down. After a few wobbling steps, Tino righted his feet and began to walk along with Berwald.

"Berwald, my cottage is just a few minutes down this pathway; you're welcomed to stay with me, since the fire…" Tino stopped. He looked up to see the sturdy giant, pausing in mid step. Those deep cerulean eyes clouded with sadness, sadness that made Tino's heart wrench. Berwald had lost everything, his home, his forest, and a good number of his belongings. Tino, not sure what to do, stepped in front of the giant.

Not giving Berwald a change to voice his question, Tino had locked his arms around the giant and stood up on his tip toes to place a small, yet sweet little kiss to Berwald's lips. Then, quicker than it happened, the Finn skipped along the slushy path, humming to himself, leaving Berwald in utter confusion and embarrassingly pleased. He had received a kiss. Two kisses today in fact. He smiled softly, placing his fingers over his lips. Oh yes, He would make Tino his wife. And nothing in this world or the next was going to stop him.

**...**

**Dude. Oh man this was so much fun to write! Sorry it's all sad and stuff but I added a few cute little moments! And Yes, Tino still thinks Berwald is a Troll, the silly little Finn.**

**Authors note:**

Maka- **Swedish for wife**

"In the distance the roll of thunder could be heard in the valley and Tino, worrying that it would frighten Berwald, turned to the taller man. Yet the impending noise of Thor's wrath did not shake the man,"—**It was said in Scandinavian folk lore that Trolls were absolutely terrified of the sound of thunder or the flash of lightening, this being that it was said that Norse God Thor would go on hunts for Trolls, and the sound of thunder was a victorious noise that he had caught and killed one of the giant creatures.**

"I know that, but Steel is bad for you isn't it?"—**Steel was, like in most folklore, poisonous to mythical creatures, in some myth's, even for Trolls.**

_Tornionjoki_ River-** A huge River that runs along the Finnish-Swedish border.**


	5. Much Needed Indulgence

**Here is the fifth Chapter, I hope you all like it, I was thinking of maybe actually making this story M rated, would you all still read it? I do not own Hetalia :D**

…

Berwald, lagging behind as usual, found his face glaring at the ground. He was blushing from ear to ear and felt a new determination course through his veins. That little kiss that he had received, that one little speck of a chance that Berwald had with making Tino his, was enough to give him a new found hope. He would make Tino his wife, no matter what it took, and no matter what Gods stood in his way, be it Thor's hammer or the wrath of _Sleipner's ____sharp hooves*_. He was going to take the Finnish man as his bride. Setting his lips in a sorry attempt at a smile, Berwald began to trudge along, until he felt something wet coat his bent neck. He looked up absently to see a new mixture in the sky.

The smoke from the enormous forest fire had bled through a new overcast of clouds, thick and heavy with an onslaught of rain. Berwald cringed. The one bad thing about spring in this country was the rain storms. Oh how he hated the rainstorms.

Sprinting quickly to his wife, as Berwald had so boldly decided to call him in his head; he set the wicker cargo down upon the now graveled path and shuffled through them till he drew up a heavy thatched blanket. It smelled like mold and mud was encrusted on the stitches, but it would keep Tino dry and warm, and that's all that Berwald could think about.

Wrapping the weighty blanket around the shoulders of the Finn, he turned again to the abandoned cargo and with a heaving grunt, picked up the burden. He watched somewhat happily as Tino snuggled into the blanket, blushing himself, from either the cold of the nights chill, or the small bit of affection Berwald had shown. Berwald hoped it was the latter.

It only took a few seconds for the rain to pour down with angry spite on the two Scandinavians, and it was enough to make Tino, the little bundle of smiles, frown. But, he reassured himself as he padded onward, Berwald following silently behind, that they were almost home. Home. Berwald did not have a home. It was a shelter, a place to live, a place to hide—it was not a home. A home would be a place to find comfort in. A home would be a place to wake up in, yawn, and turn to the person next to you who you loved and adored, and who would do anything for you. Norway had that. And Tino himself was dead jealous of it.

But Berwald had made him an offer, probably a joking offer, but one none the less. Tino bit the bottom of his lip. Oh the decisions, oh the heartbreak, oh the temptations of being touched in wondrous ways by a hot, steamy, sexy Troll on their wedding night. Tino shook his head quickly. Thinking of Berwald in such away, no matter how pleasing to his lower half, was not good right now. Right now he had to find his damn cottage in this rainstorm at who knows how late at night.

After calming himself down, the Finn looked up and smiled. Looking out he saw the familiar trees that had arranged themselves through the light snow. They were home.

The cottage wasn't much, but it was roomy and snug in winter and cool in the hot summer months. It seemed like ages to the Finn since he last saw the wooden structure. The icy snow had killed the moss that used to grow on the stone exterior, but it looked like the small little pine trees had lasted, their little green fingers swaying silently in the rain. Tino hopped up the slippery stone path, almost giving Berwald a heart attack when the Finn slipped and almost landed butt first in a slushy pile of melting snow. But, just in the nick of time, Berwald dropped the baskets in a heartbeat and caught Tino by the waist, trying his best not to collide with the floor himself.

Tino's face burst the color of red in a matter of seconds. His body went rigid as he felt two strong hands hold him close. He could smell the smoke and the dampness of the rain on the Swede's skin and it made him feel dizzy. Damn if every single tale about Trolls Tino had ever heard was a lie! Trolls were supposed to be mean, not knightly. Trolls were supposed to be ugly, not handsome. And Trolls were certainly not supposed to be able to make a certain part of a certain Finn's body stand to attention.

As Tino blushed at the thought he carefully wriggled out of Berwald's grip and swayed, half-drunkenly, to the door of the cottage. He turned to Berwald and was met with another glare. Tino felt his face grow pale at the giants intense eyes, well, at least some of the Troll myths were true. He thought wearily.

Snuggling deeper in the stale blanket, which, to his frustration was starting to become drenched with water, he looked onward to his small long house. Thankfully the snow had not piled high against the door so it was fairly easy getting in, just a few pushes and shoves and Tino, stomping his boots on the little wooden steps that Denmark had built for him last summer, stooped inside.

Once they were in the cabin, a blast of cold air whirled at the two men, the small cottage almost appearing angry at being left alone for so long. Tino, shivering, ushered Berwald in who was still standing by the door, wondering if he should enter the quaint hut or not. Once inside, there wasn't much to see, as everything was a dull black.

After fumbling around in the dark for a good minute, Tino finally produced a flint from a few small chests. He then thanked all the Gods he could remember that he had stoked the mantel with fresh kindling before he left for his cousins. After getting a healthy blaze in the small river stoned fireplace, he rubbed his hands to keep off the cold. He then turned around to see where Berwald had gotten to, when he faced around; he let out a surprised yelp.

The now wavering fire had cast shadow's along the Swede's back, an expanse of skin that Tino had not laid eyes on, but now, his violet iris's grew wide. Long, battered, snake-like scars were whiplashed all along Berwald's back; some were even bleeding, or still fingernail pink. Tino let out a small gasp and rushed over to the lofty Giant, who was busying himself by untying the two woven baskets. As his fingers worked on the leather cords, Berwald had not noticed the advancing footsteps of the petite Finn.

At the unaccustomed touch of warm fingers on Berwald's back, the gigantic Swede bucked slightly, looking up and turning to Tino with a velocity of speed that could put a leaping deer to shame.

Tino, realizing that he must have invaded some barrier of space, immediately retracted his fingers like he had touched a hot coal. Berwald stared down at the terrified Finn, trying to dissolve his glare, only making his brow furrow, resulting in him looking even more horrific.

"I…I…" Tino stuttered. Damn it he was a man and he would not be afraid of a Troll! Taking a deep breath the Finn squared his shoulders and puffed up his chest, making himself feel a bit more in control. But to Berwald, he just looked ridiculously cute.

"I…well…Your back…" Tino tried to explain, but with no success. Berwald, at the mention of his back, curled his elbow up to flit around his skin, only cringing at the raw pain now becoming present by the caress of his callous fingers. He grunted softly before looking away. It wasn't too bad. Just a few burns and scratches from the forest fire. Berwald had gone through worse, plus, living alone in the wilderness tended to toughen up a man. And Berwald was certainly a man.

But, as Berwald averted his eyes, Tino would have none of it. Grabbing Berwald by the hand he set him on the floor. Bending down Tino took Berwald's ruined leather shoes from his feet, and set them by the door. He then wrapped a fresh clean blanket on Berwald's lap to keep the still apparent chill in the room at bay.

The Swede watched Tino absorbedly as the young blonde began to rummage through the small confines of the cottage, allowing Berwald a bit of time to observe his surroundings.

The small long house was certainly more spacious and comfortable than Berwald's cave. The walls were of solid logs and mortar, and as Berwald looked to the left, a big heavy loom was leaning stoically against a slated window that had been barred up with leather. Another thing that Berwald's cave lacked was the huge fire pit in the middle of the room, stacks of pots and a few bundles of what Berwald guessed was food. Food. It was at that moment Berwald realized that he had ran down an entire mountain side with a Finn on his back and two baskets in his arms, making him feel a wave of fatigue and hunger set into him.

Tino, noticing that the Swede was slouching slightly in his seat, his stomach growling, quickly dug through one of his small wrappings of food to produce a bit of corn meal and a few handfuls of dried berries. Feeling thankful that the heat from the hearth was warm enough, the Finn quickly mixed a bit of salt, sugar and meal into a bowl, along with a helping of berries and a few drops of water before clumping the mixture onto a small stone tablet on the hearth. Smiling to himself and the quickness of his work, he then turned back to Berwald, who was patiently waiting near the loom.

Berwald's back was truly a mess. A few burn marks scalded his skin deeply, leaving a sheen of pink on the man's bone white skin. The most Tino could do for him was lightly clean the scars that were still dibbling blood, while dabbing the burns with a poultice. _Poor Berwald_…. Tino thought, _losing his home and getting injured in the same night… why must the Gods be so cruel to such a giant?_ Tino sighed and started to mend Berwald's cuts, trying to be as gentle as he could. Yet Tino could have harshly whipped a fiery branding iron on the Swede's bare skin and Berwald would not have cared. Just to have his little wife care for him so much was enough to set his heart skyrocketing high in the air. Berwald sighed happily as he felt the small caresses on his back, biting back a grimace or a grunt when the pain really was too much. He wanted to show his wife he was not weak. Though what he _really_ wanted to show Tino was that he was worthy of his love. Yes love. That was this feeling Berwald concluded over the few days he had known the man. Love was what he held deep in his heart for the small Finn.

Tino, after setting Berwald's wounds with a medicine he hoped would help the pinching pain of the skin, wrapped Berwald's torso carefully with a few swabs of clean cloth, smiling at his handy work. The scars would stay, but hopefully they wouldn't cause the man too much of an irritation.

Tino sat up and stretched his legs, it really was late in the night, he thought, looking out at the small slated window made out of crudely blown glass. He sighed wearily and weaved back to the small hearth, his frown turning into a smile when he saw the now golden blushing of the freshly made bread. Covering his hands up with a scrap of leather, the young Finn quickly grabbed the stone slate and placed it on the dirt floor of the room, then, placing the crisp bread on a plate he brought it to Berwald, assuring the Troll that it was all his.

Berwald, not wishing to eat without the Finn, urged the small man to take a bit of bread with him, and after much coaxing, the Finn complied, stuffing his face with the hearty snack. After the entire loaf had been devoured, Tino sat up to put the plate in the washing pale, only to be harshly pulled back, and shoved onto something warm. Berwald had grabbed Tino's waist and had seated the squirming Finn on his lap.

"W'at 'bout yo'r w'unds?" he asked, nudging the Finn's back softly. Tino, blushing from being seated on the huge mans lap, just laughed awkwardly.

"Oh don't worry about me, I'll be fine." He said, attempting to get up, but still the iron grip held him down. With an unconvinced grunt, Berwald had hitched up Tino's tunic to show the Finn's bare chest. Tino gave out a squeak at the motion.

Berwald was sure that, if this was not for his wife's health, he would have been blushing from ear to ear and stuttering. But, because he wanted to make sure Tino had not gotten any injuries, he pushed his innocence beside and gazed at the creamy skin.

Berwald's heart sunk. Nasty bruises had been blotched on the Finnish boy's smooth skin, making ugly marks like searing ink. Berwald's eyes immediately flashed angry, angry at what he didn't know, but he felt like punching a wall.

Sensing the anger, Tino pushed his clothing back in place. "Ah ha… Its okay, really, they don't hurt any more. Plus it could have been worse, the tree was a doosey..." he laughed, his violet eyes growing worriedly. Berwald grunted in a way that reminded Tino of a bear, and in an instant the Finn was being lifted up once again bridal style.

"Room." Was all Berwald said and it came out strained, like it was said through gritted teeth. Tino, terrified out of his mind by the intense stare the Swede was giving him, pointed to a small room with a little oaken door, his fingers trembling. In three long strides Berwald had made it to the edge of the small hay filled bed. Placing his cargo into the folds of the hay and doe skins he tucked Tino in soundly, making him lay on his side so as not to agitate his bruises.

"Me sl'p on fl'r." it came out guttered and in Berwald's usual bruised language but it pulled at Tino's heart. Was Berwald being gentlemanly, offering to sleep on the dirt floor instead of the bed? Tino frowned, it was a nice gesture, but one the Finn couldn't accept.

So, being the stubborn Nordic that he was, he crawled out of the bed and wedged himself on the floor at Berwald's feet, crossing his legs like a child.

"If you sleep on the floor, then so am I." he said defiantly. Berwald, lifting up a brow, placed his hands under Tino's arms and easily lifted the man up like he was a sack of feathers and laid him on the bed.

"No." was all he said, turning around to leave to room, to which Tino, once again, slid to the floor, his face with a determined grin, his tongue sticking out. Berwald couldn't help but smile. His wife was too cute!

"It okay, r'ally. I l'ke fl'r." Berwald said, trying to reason with the Finn. Tino shook his head 'no.' Berwald sighed and once again cupped his hands underneath Tino's arms and hoisted him up to the bed, only to have the Finn extend his weight to an angle at which Berwald lost balance and landed on the manger like cot with a thundering crash. Tino breathed heavily, having the wind knocked out of him by the huge Swede.

It took Berwald a few seconds to gain his bearings, and after a few more seconds his head stopped feeling so dizzy and he was able to open his eyes, only to wish he hadn't. Tino's face was mere inches away from Berwald's. And all the Swede could do was blush like a dumbstruck idiot. He had fallen on his wife… Berwald mentally slapped himself.

Tino, still feeling the huge man's weight on him, wondered why he had not gotten off. The Finn cracked one of his lovely violet eyes to peer at the Troll, only to have his face heat up like a volcano. The face in front of him was the most handsome face he had ever seen in his twenty years of life.

Berwald's glasses had fallen off his nose from the impact, his crystalline eyes looking less brooding without the glare of the glass and wire. It made his chiseled jaw look less like an Eagles glare, and more like a Stags prideful gleam. And the fact that Berwald didn't have to squint from the light of the glasses help to smooth out the creases from his brow. In simple English, if Tino knew he could get away with it, he would have pounced on the Troll and ripped his clothes off right then and there.

He felt the older man's breath tickle his face and realized something then and there. He might want more than friendship with this tall and menacing man. Maybe a bit more than a friendly hello and light conversation at meal times. Yes, he wanted more of the Swede, and he wanted it now. Feeling a bit braver, he lightly hooked his shivering fingers with Berwald's; wedging them under the giants palms, still keeping his eyes in a dead lock with the Trolls. _They had already kissed twice, so why should once more make a difference?_ The Finn thought greedily.

All it took was that small little brush of fingers against Berwald's now warming flesh for the man's heart to leap into oblivion. Berwald had never had any human contact like this, nothing like this in his short life time. And he dreaded the thought of having this moment being ripped away from him. So he did the only thing he could think of, he sealed this moment with a small, chaste kiss upon Tino's soft, feather like lips.

Oh how the Finn's face lit up like a pink flame. Berwald himself was blushing from ear to ear, feeling his breathing become erratic at the soft touch of lips. Then a terrible thought hit Berwald. What if Tino had not been ready for such a romantic gesture? What if the little Finn just wanted to be friends and Berwald had made a grave mistake! Berwald's gut immediately churned painfully. His eyes grew panicked. What did he do? How could he fix the situation?

Tino, who had been having trouble breathing since his heart was pounding so rapidly, thought he was going to pass out. But, with set determination, he relaxed his shoulders and squeezed Berwald's hands with his fingers. Then an unwanted thought wedged into Tino's brain. Berwald was a Troll and Tino was a mortal. The Finn bit his lip. Could he really be with a Troll, no matter how handsome he found him? No matter how much he wished for that sweet embrace until morning. Tino felt doubt strike his mind for a moment. But it was not like he would ever get this chance again. Tino desperately wanted to be a bride for the spring festival, and, well, maybe a Troll for a husband wouldn't be so bad. Tino blushed at the thought.

Lightly retracting his hands from the Swede, Finland slowly brought his fingers to comb through Berwald's corn silk hair, marveling at the softness of it and the way the firelight that had strewn in from the door made it burn like the sun. It was still a bit wet and it tickled Tino's fingers. Berwald _was_ handsome. No amount of storytelling from Tino's youth could dispel that. Berwald was not like any Troll Tino had ever heard of, and he was becoming very fond of the brutishly tall man with the high jaw and river-green eyes. Tino even felt like a giggling girl in the man's presence. Yes. Tino would indulge. While Berwald may not be human, he still had a beating heart, and well…something else that the Finn greedily wanted.

After the few minutes passed, Berwald grew stiff and strained. He did not want to make another move; letting Tino decided if this is what he wanted. And apparently it was. Light caresses made its way up to Berwald's scalp, as small girlish hands carded through his mane of wild hair. It felt wonderful to Berwald, to be touched by another human being in such a kind way! And then it ended. The fingers were retracted and Berwald felt the even more wonderful sensation of lips, dew soft and oven warm lips sealing into his. Berwald melted like the snow on a spring day.

Tino had surprised himself. He let the lustful side of himself win; fastening Berwald's chapped lips with his own, trying desperately to make the big Swede move an inch. When the big man didn't budge, Tino twisted his fingers into the back of Berwald's hair and yanked down softly, turning the sweet and fairylike kiss into something more passionate, something like the forest fire that had enflamed them both. And it didn't last there. Slowly, timidly, barriers were broken.

A pink, avaricious tongue met with a flame red, hesitant one. Breathing was unreliable, as the screaming of lungs was ignored and the sensation of humming could be heard in the two men's ears. Hands gripped and battled, a pale back was grinded into the prickly straw mattress, while the more dominant of the two placed sweet petal like kisses along a smooth and milky jaw. Tino's eyes brightened with joy. He did not know if this was love or not, but it was as close as he had ever gotten and he liked it.

He whimpered slightly as a dull nip was given on his collar bone, giggling faintly to see that Berwald's glassed had slipped down the man's face. Tino smiled lovingly, a rare smile that could be seen in Berwald's eyes. Maybe this was love, maybe it wasn't, but it didn't matter to Tino, all that matted was now. Not winter, not spring, now. With heated eyes the Finn splayed his hands over Berwald's chiseled chest, watching the face of the Swede, becoming pleased when he heard a sharp intake of breath. Oh how he had wanted to run his hands over these muscles!

Berwald breathed in the heavy scent of baking bread as he once again kissed along his wife's neck, shivering slightly from the contact. Wife. Berwald smiled to himself. This was the happiest moment in his life. The Gods, though taking away his home and causing him wounds, had repaid Berwald with a handsome gift. A bride. And then it hit Berwald. Tino was his bride, so should he not wait till the festival night to bed the Finn? Berwald blushed, feeling himself grow rigid at the thought. Tino was beautiful, vexing, irresistible, and sexy. But Tino wanted to be a bride. And a bride he would be.

After a long and thoughtful kiss, that once parted left Tino sputtering for air, Berwald gave a quick kiss to the Finn's forehead and then sat up, eyes still on his little wife. Tino, alarmed and a bit annoyed that Berwald had stopped his assault of kisses, sat up as well.

"Is something wrong?" Tino asked, breath barely escaping his throat. He clasped his hands over his partly loosened tunic.

"No. B't yoo Br'de. We w'it t'll Spr'ng." He said, smiling as best as he could without scaring the little Finn. Tino's eyes went wide.

So…Berwald was not kidding when he said he could be his husband. Tino's face grew hot. Could he marry a Troll? Was it even legal? Sure, Loki's parents were giants, but I mean, that was in the case of the Gods, not a mere farm peasant and a Troll!*

Berwald, sensing the alarm in the Finn's eyes hugged him softly. "I be g'd h'sb'nd. Yoo no w'rry." And at that Berwald pushed Tino down and wrapped him up in the doe skin blanket, sitting up to leave the room. Tino, his brain trying desperately to keep up with the situation frowned and pulled at the bare arms of the Swede. Berwald paused in mid step to look behind him.

Tino's face was enflamed, but his eyes were stubborn. Tino would humor the giant Swede. "If you are my husband then…"he paused to pat the bed space next to him. Now it was Berwald's turn to blush. _Hell, if they had already slept together naked, then why should this be any more awkward?_ Tino thought with a new edge of courage.

Berwald grunted and slowly shuffled over to the hay filled mattress, plopping himself on the side so as not to agitate his wounds, Tino doing the same till they were facing each other.

"G'dn'ght wife." Berwald wrapped his arms around the small Finn. Tino, pride be damned, allowed himself to be the teddy bear of the giant….bear. Tino sighed. How he got into this mess he would never know. It was his own fault for falling in love with a Troll and-wait. Did Berwald call him his wife? The Finnish man groaned into his head before giving into a much needed rest, in the arms of his new husband.

…

**Should I turn this story into an "M" Rated Fanfic? Tell me yes or no in your REVIEW. Oh and Merry Imbolc everyone! :D**

**Authors note:**

**"be it Thor's hammer or the wrath of _Sleipner's _**___**sharp hooves"- **Thor was the patron Norse God of the peasants, who was said to use a hammer as his weapon, Sleipner was Odin's eight legged horse. _

**"Sure, Loki's parents were giants, but I mean, that was in the case of the Gods, not a mere farm peasant and a Troll!"- **Loki is the Norse God of mischief who had parents who were Giants.


	6. Invasion

Shiiiiiit sorry I haven't updated recently, but I love you all! REVIEW EVEN THOUGH I DON"T DESERVE YOUR LOOOOOOVE!

….

The finger tips of dawn had not even graced the sky with its presence before a loud and harsh rapt was heard on the door of Tino's cottage. With a start, the Finn sat up, blinking rapidly, his hair a mess and his tunic wrinkled beyond repair. Yawning quietly he tried to get out of his straw bed when he felt something locked around him. Looking down he spied a well muscled arm had weaved its way around his waist. Tino blushed. Ah…yes. That was right.

Berwald had spent the night with him. In his bed. And they had…done things. Tino felt this face heat up like a kettle on the coals, his hand flittering to his lips, his neck, and down to his collar bone where, to his shock, he felt a bump. Rubbing his index finger over the now bruised flesh he let out a frustrated whine. Berwald had given him a hickey… and a big one at that. He could just imagine the rusted mark on his skin.

_Knock_! The noise startled the Finn but then he remembered why he had woken up in the first place. Prying himself from Berwald's arm he wedged away from the bed only to be pulled back as the arm around his waist went rigid around his middle again. Tino frowned. He turned back to the giant who was fast asleep.

Berwald's golden hair melded in with his pale, snow white skin, making him look so sweet. Little hairs were strewn all along his cheeks, and there were dark circles under his eyes, a sign that he had not had a great night's sleep. Tino blushed more furiously. Remembering the things they did once more. The kiss, the caresses, and the feelings that they had unopened. Oh yes, Tino would pay dearly for the little night of passion, but right now he didn't care. Right now he wanted some food in his belly and some water for his dry throat. _Knock_! And to find out who in the hell was knocking on his door this early in the Perkele_fucking _morning!*

He was about to yank himself out of Berwald's steel like grip when he heard a bearish yawn. Turning around, he downcast his eyes and immediately blushed. Berwald's eyes were fluttering open, his mouth in a slanted pout.

"Stay." He commanded weakly, feeling sleep take a hold of him once more. His eyes reminded Tino of a little puppy who was begging for its master. It hit Tino's heart and for a second he found himself wanting to just curl up into the folds of the blankets and sleep in the arms of the Giant. But then the dreaded rapt pounded into the Finn's head.

With a long drawn out sigh Tino wedged out of the Trolls strong grip only to be smothered back down into the warm embrace. He allowed himself to giggle as Berwald snored loudly and snuggled his head into the crook of Tino's neck. This is how it should be. Just the two of them together, and then come spring, well….Tino wasn't sure if he could really _marry_ the man, but he didn't mind having a relationship with him. _A nice, long, steamy relationship_, he thought guiltily.

And then it happened. A quick bashing noise that soon erupted into the scrapping of wood. Tino immediately sprang up along with Berwald. They exchanged an alarmed glace before shoving the blankets off of themselves and quickly standing, Berwald stumbling to the door. By now the shattering of wood had stopped but it was replaced by the thudding of boots and the clinks of metal. Someone was in the house. Their house.

Tino wrapped a woven blanket over his shoulders as Berwald braced himself against the door; his knuckles were white as he pressed his palms against the thin wood. It wouldn't hold and he knew it. Whatever or whoever was on the other side of that door could be armed and Berwald's long sword was hooked up in the living room. He had nothing to protect his wife but his own two hands. He gritted his teeth.

Tino was shivering in the blanket, his teeth chattering wildly, his eyes trained on the door. He didn't know what to do, how to help. He was just frozen in time and his legs, no matter how much he pleaded for them to move, were fixed to the floor. And then he heard it. It was a gruff shout, muffled by the door, but still there, and it made Tino's blood grow cold. It was an angry voice, a voice that meant harm, and it was not but two feet from the door.

The voices grew louder and louder, multiplying and growing till it happened. The door was pushed back with unknown hands but Berwald held tight, deciding right then and there that he would die protecting Tino. The sounds of an unsharpened axe slammed against the door frame until one bolt came flying, then the next, leaving only two left, and still Berwald held on. He was jolted slightly from the impact of the second blow but he shoved his bruised shoulders up against the meager wood. He would not let the Gods take away his bride; he had been through too much to let Tino slip through his fingers!

Tino began to look around the room for something to arm himself with, but all he came up with was the brittle casting of a wooden candle holder. He remember Norway telling him how to defend himself should an invader or a barbarian attempt to break into the house, but right now he couldn't remember anything, he just couldn't. All that he _could _do was fling his feeble arms against the door in hopes to help Berwald fend off the intruders. But the door couldn't hold forever…. It just couldn't!

_Crack._

"T'no…" Berwald's voice was strained. In front of them Tino could hear the angry shouts of men, rough in language that Tino could barely make out, but it sounded Slavic. Tino looked up at Berwald, his glare evident on his face, his eyes set with determination.

_Crack._

"B-Berwald?" Tino's voice broke, along with one of the bolts on the door, the men were advancing, and one even had his leather boot through the splintered door and was punching his fist through the fragile wood.

_Crack. _

"T'no…I l've you…"

_Crack._

"привет… My name is Ivan. You must be Tino, da?"*

_Crack. _

….

They were dragged. Tino was pulled through the door delicately, but swarms of men launched themselves at Berwald like wild dogs. That's what they were to Tino. Wild hounds with no right nor reason to what they did. The tall one, with the violet eyes and the tasseled scarf. He was the worst. He held Tino by the arm with a painfully hard grip while the other men tried unsuccessfully to tie Berwald down. He was like an angry stallion, bucking and flinging the soldiers up in the air like they were rag dolls. Tino desperately tried to help Berwald but he was no match for the man with the violet eyes. Ivan. Yes, that was what he called himself. Ivan the Terrible.

Rope after rope was thrown high in the air, grazing the top of the longhouse, occasionally knocking a trinket or tool in the process. Constricting and tight, round and round the wild dog-men went till each one had a rope latched securely around the giant. Tino could barely look at the painful sight. Berwald had a long bloodied gash to add to his collection of bruises, along with a black eye and a cut near his bare lashed chest. He looked beaten, bested, but fire was still in his eyes.

"Hmm….he does not tame easily, da? It's like he's not even a man, but a beast! A Troll!" Ivan said with sickening glee. He went around, circling Berwald like a wild dog who had just defeated a lion. He was full of himself, cocky, and incredibly cruel.

"Wh-who are you?" Tino had finally found his voice as Ivan held Tino's shoulders with his thin and nimble fingers.

"Well, they are the best of the Russian army!" The tall blonde man pointed to the men that had thrown Berwald to the ground. Then his grin split into an even bigger smile, his pointed canine teeth shining. "I am the second child to theBraginski throne of Russia," he then giggled like a little child before turning back to look at Berwald. The giant Swede was thrashing around on the dirt floor, his wounds starting to reopen, the new ones getting grimed in the soil.

"He is strong, da. But I will break him." Ivan said to himself, tightening his hold on the Finn.

Tino wiggled harshly in the grip of the Russian. "Let me go!" he shouted, his masculinity appearing at last. He stomped his feet and gnashed his hands into fists, and, in a lasting effort Tino finally shook free of the smiling man to join Berwald on the floor, his hands scattering over Berwald's battered flesh.

"T'no…" his voice was weak and thin. It shook Tino to his very bones. _Why did this have to happen? Why now? In _a flash the end of a boot heel grinded Berwald to the ground.

"You my friend do not get the privilege to speak to the Finn…" The singsong voice echoed over Tino's ears. Tino looked with eyes wide with horror as Ivan took out an iron stick of metal that looked to be from a pipe or a pump. He brandished it up in the air and was about to bring it down over Berwald when a shattering scream shoved through the air. Tino was surprised that it came from him.

"Stop!" The tone of his voice shook, tears were scorching over his pale cheeks. "Stop, please, why are you doing this?" Tino splayed his hands over Berwald's tied body; the Swede gave out a soft grunt of thanks as Tino propped his head up on his lap.

"Why am I doing this, da? Because I can. I have taken over this meaningless territory for my own. It is mine now. I own it. Mine. Mine. Mine." His voice was so sweet like the honey from a bees comb, but it stung too, like the stinger of the wasp.

Ivan bent down and curled his lithe finger underneath Tino's jaw. Tino resisted the urge to flinch. He was strong, and by the Gods he was going to act like it.

"Da…You are mine too. Mine." Ivan looked down at Berwald with a glare of hatred. "Not his. Mine." Then Ivan's smile surfaced once again, it split into a wide smirk that shook Tino and stirred his mind into dizziness.

Without warning Ivan clamped his mitted hands over Tino's waist and hauled him over his shoulder. Tino immediately kicked and screamed, biting into Ivan's shoulder to which the Russian man wacked him lightly on the thigh with his pipe.

"Now, now Finn. This is not polite. You will be nice to your Knight. I will treat you well if you treat me well. You are my new toy after all." Ivan's voice made Tino's brain sputter to a halt. Berwald had struggled to sit up and was shouting after Tino, who was still being led out the door of the shoulders of Ivan. It was all happening too fast. Just a few minutes ago he was sleeping the quietness that used to be Tino's bed, in the arms of what was his soon to be his wife. It was too damn fast.

With new set determination, Berwald thrashed against the ropes that bound him, smashing a few of the men in the process against the walls. He collapsed to his knees and crawled down through the dirt, dragging six men with him as he went. He was about to get out through the door when he felt the searing pain of a leather cord whip his back. He curled upward and took a sharp groan as his hands were kicked and stepped on. But it would not be enough to hold him. He wanted his wife, and damned if he was going to let some _Ryska_ drag him away.*

So, finding strength within his heart he heaved up and ripped the cords from his body and legs, severing three in the process before galloping out of the room to see Ivan loading a screaming and kicking Tino onto the back of a chestnut mare.* Berwald lunged at the animal and pushed Ivan down on the ground. The Russian, stunned for only the barest of seconds, snarled and shouted something in his native language. In a few seconds more guards had assembled outside the longhouse, but by then Berwald had already swung his legs into the stirrups and snapped the reigns. In an instant the animal raised itself on its hind legs and lunged foreword, almost trampling a few men in the process.

Berwald dared not look back as he swung Tino to the front him, shouting for the boy to grip the horse's mane as he controlled the galloping beast with the thimble corded reigns. Tino, only half hearing Berwald's shouts over the thundering of the hooves, clung to the neck of the beast for dear life, biting his lips with his teeth to keep from screaming.

Over the dirt path they raced, across the stones that jutted out from the aspen grove, to the outskirts of the flax field that Tino used to work in when he was a child. The country side was beautiful, even more so blurred from the back of the long legged animal, but Tino had no time to enjoy it. Within a few seconds he felt the shuddering of the horse as it rose up and clamped on the iron bit. Berwald, confusion hitting him, as he had never rode such a high spirited horse before, could only dig his bare feet into the sides of the creature, trying to halt it's maddening bucking. Then, eyes scanning wildly over the trees, he saw what spooked the animal.

Soldiers. Twenty of them or so had blocked the small gated bridge that led to the sloping meadows that was Tino and Berwald's only chance for freedom. Berwald cursed softly, his brows furrowing downward, hands gripping the reigns tightly. Tino, looking up could only stare with fright as the guardsmen in the lightly dyed robes lifted up their arms to boast an array of long bows, poised and ready.

"Give up, Swede." The bubbly voice of Ivan broke Tino's thoughts like a thousand arrows. Berwald growled deep in his throat. He could barely see, as he had lost his glasses when the guards first came, but he knew that voice. His mind wouldn't let him forget. The damned Russian.

"Dismount the horse and I promise the Finn will not be harmed." Ivan stepped forward, his wolf skin tunic was slightly dirty from when Berwald pushed him down, and his fisted hands held onto his metal pipe with ease. He was angry, though his face was calm, smiling. It made Berwald sick.

Berwald shook his head, backing the horse up, sharpening his hands on the reigns. The skittish animal tossed her head and snorted widely. Berwald looked behind him to see with frustration that more guard's men, mounted on the tall and lithe Russian horses, were beginning to corner him. He ground his teeth, biting into his cheeks. He had to think, he had to come up with a plan.

Berwald didn't know how Ivan knew where Tino's cabin was, or how he was able to track them so well, but what he did know was that the Russian had men who were armed, and he was pretty sure that they wouldn't hesitate to kill him, even if it meant injuring the Finn. He had to think of something and something fast.

"How can we trust you?" The voice was cracking and small, but it got the Russians attention. Tino sat straight up in the woven blanketed saddle, his face set into a frown, eyes stubborn. He looked straight at the tall Russian, violet matching violet.

Ivan laughed a joyous chuckle that made Tino grip the mane of the horse tighter. He would not let this man take away his courage. Tino was a man; it was time to start acting like one.

"You must. For its either trust me and live, or stay in the saddle and die. Make your choice Finn." He smiled and tapped the edge of the pipe to his leg, waiting, like a hungry wolf. Tino frowned.

"How do you know I'm Finnish?" He asked, starting to get nervous. He looked around him. Behind the trees more men were inching toward them, secretly, quietly. It made Tino incredibly afraid and he looked to Berwald for courage. But all he got was the same hardened glare. The man was calculating something in his head, but Tino couldn't guess what.

"Some very nice people in town told me. Well, I had to force it out of the short vapid one, because the tall obnoxious man was just too much trouble, we had to tie him up. But don't worry, your cousin's are still alive. _Still_, being the key word, da?" Ivan snickered and spread his arms wide.

"Now is the time to choose Tino, Death with the Troll or Life with the Knight?" Ivan beamed, his vicious smile back in place. Tino's eyes widened. Death? Life? He had to either sacrifice his and Berwald's life, or keep them both alive but be at the mercy of the Russian? Tino's face began to drain of color, his fingers cold and shaking. An early spring wind blew round him and ticked the pads of his bare feet, but he couldn't feel anything. His heart frozen from the impending decision.

"He Ch'se n'ith'r!" Berwald's strong voice boomed over the clearing of trees. In one swift movement he tightened the reigns, wrapped his arms around Tino, and gave the horse a sharp kick to the ribs. The animal bucked like it had just been hit with a hot coal. Shouts and curse words spilled from the guards mouths as Berwald swerved the animal to the left till it was facing the men that were behind them from the beginning. Then, urging the animal into the fastest gallop he had ever ridden, he bounded straight for the clump of men, some of who were flooding out of the way. Tino screamed wildly. Had Berwald lost his mind? Here he was putting them both in danger, not even considering the consequences!

"That's enough Troll! Stop these antics now if you want to save your lover!" Ivan's voices was getting frustrated, his smile gone, replaced with a sullen grimace. He stepped forward, and growled, glaring at Berwald as he got closer and closer to the lined men.

But, as Tino clung on tightly to the big Swede, he felt the horse's legs stamp. He looked up to see that Berwald had faced the animal to the back end of which they came. Tino almost peed in his pants. A long row of soldiers, spears skyward grimaced at the mounted duo. Berwald couldn't… He wasn't…He wouldn't…

He was.

Berwald roared deeply, mimicking the ferocity of a wild lion as he spurred the horse on. Tino screamed along with him with fright. He was going to charge the row of men with spears!

_We'll be cut to ribbons!_ Tino shouted in his head. But it was too late; the horse was nearing the men fast, rearing her head up and at the last possible seconds…. Flew over the men like they were a stout fence and nothing more. Onward they galloped.

Tino laughed shakily. They had done it. They had escaped! Tino, feeling braver, quickly hugged Berwald around the middle and buried his cheek into the Swede's bare back, mindful of the scraps and burns. Berwald had saved his life for the third time since he'd met him… he truly was a remarkable man….Er…Troll. _And he's my Troll…_ Tino thought with new found happiness. _All mine._

After an hour of hard ridding Berwald decided the animal deserved a break, so, bringing the exhausted creature to a halt, he led the withered mare to a small creek combed with heather. The horse began to drink thirstily as Berwald dismounted and helped Tino slide off the sweaty beast. Holding Tino steady, as his legs were still wobbly, he instructed the Finn to go drink some water.

So, while Berwald tended to the horse, Tino waded in the stream and cupped his hands into the sweet and clear river water. Sighing with bliss he rubbed the water along his dirtied neck and arms before taking a long draught of the liquid. It tasted so cool and wonderful down his throat! He smiled and began to wade deeper into the river when he heard a mellowed _splash!_

Tino looked behind him to see that Berwald had dumped the saddle, blanket, and bridle into the stream water, watching it float away. Tino starred in shock.

"What are you doing?" he whispered harshly, mildly aware that they might still be being tracked.

Berwald looked up innocently, until he frowned and looked back to the water.

"If we k'p h'rse we get f'llow'd. F'nd hoof p'nts…" Berwald explained before slapping the horse on the rump. The animal whinnied before loping into a slow trot away from the two. Tino sighed. Berwald was right. If they kept the horse, they'd be much easier to track…But his legs hurt and he was cold and hungry and he was most of all worried about his cousin's and his fiancé's well being. Was Ivan telling the truth? Did he really have them taken hostage? Maybe even the whole village? Tino sighed, resting his head in his hands.

"It be okay. I p'otect…r'm'mber?" Berwald had come to sit down next to Tino at the end of the river bank. He tried his best to smile as he gathered the Finn in his arms for a cuddly bear hug.

"We w'lk l'ttle w'ys in wat'r, c'mp for one n'ght. Th'n go b'ck to 'elp f'mily." Berwald rested his head on Tino's shoulder. His breathing had calmed down by now and he allowed himself to nuzzle his cheek into his wife's. Tino smiled softly. Berwald really was perfect.

"But how do we go back? Ivan is going to be looking for us. He probably has taken over the entire village by now…" Tino's voice quivered with sadness. He wanted to be manly, he truly did, but his bones hurt and his heart had lost its last shred of hope. He wouldn't be surprised if by morning the whole village was burned down.

Berwald hugged him tighter. "I w'uld do a'yth'ng for my w'fe… At d'wn, we go to the v'll'ge." He kissed the top of Tino's head, enjoying the scent of the Finn.

Tino's face immediately burned red. "Ber-Berwald… Why do you call me your wife?" Tino asked but was immediately quieted by a sound coming from the bushes. Berwald, distracted from answering the question, immediately, stood up and placed his hand behind him, warning Tino to stay behind him. But Tino wouldn't have any of it. Berwald had fought enough today, now it was his turn! So, stomping up in front of the Swede, he pulled up his tunic sleeves and quietly crossed the river, wading around near the brush.

"T'no!" Berwald hissed, wading in after the Finn. Why did he have to fall in love with the clumsiest, death defying Finn in all of Scandinavia? Simple. Because Tino had a nice ass that Berwald wouldn't mind squeezing. Berwald sighed at his weakness for the flesh.

But he couldn't focus on the Finn's body right now; he had other matters to attend to, like protecting the boy if a Russian asshole should pop out of the bushes and try to maul him. He really did hate those Russian bastards.

He paused in mid step as he heard the brush crackle and sway. Someone was defiantly in the bushes. Berwald didn't feel like taking any chances today, he had already let his guard down once, and it sure as hell wasn't going to happen again. He quickly went ahead of Tino and held him back. Tino frowned but let the Troll have his way.

With expert ease, Berwald lightly flitted his fingers over the stubby bushes, the water rushing to his waist. He took a deep breath before spreading the bushes with sure speed.

He was pushed to the side, landing in the water. He clawed up from the river and breathed deeply like a dog that had been deprived of air. Sputtering and shaking the water loose from his hair, he swerved his head left and right. "T'no….T'NO!" he coughed, his throat burning.

Then his eyes fixed on a scene of horror. A tall blonde man, wielding a powerful axe had his arms around Tino, holding him up high, looking to be choking him! Tino's face was littered with tears, his voice harsh and sobbing! Berwald's face grew angry. With two long strides he crawled his way out of the water, straight towards the murderous blonde.

"Let…" Berwald growled. He was coming to face the man's back. His glare intensified.

"My…" The tall brutish man turned around, his deep blue eyes glittering with happiness, his sharp teeth pointed into a grin.

"W'fe…" Berwald pulled his arm back, though his muscles were sore he retracted his fingers into a fist. The man's grin immediately melted into a look of confusion then shock.

"GO!" Berwald's fist connected with the man's nose, sending him and Tino backwards. Berwald rushed over to the little Finn and helped him up, pulling him away from the now unconscious man. He held Tino to his chest and kissed the top of his head.

Tino pushed away from him, his eyes shocked. Berwald just stared.

"Berwald…You just punched my cousin's fiancé!" He snapped his voice shrill.

Berwald looked down at the man, then back at Tino.

Oh the God's were just fucking with him now weren't they? Berwald rubbed the back of his head, trying to think of something apologetic to make up for what he just did. But his mind went blank. So he did the only think that he could think of.

He wrapped his arms around the Finn and pressed his lips to the little Finn's. Tino's eyes flew open immediately. He truly did not expect Berwald to crush his lips to his... _Perkele!_

Tino's brain stopped working. _Did he just?_ Tino clawed his hands into Berwald's back. Within seconds of their lips touching Tino felt something warm and soft slide into his mouth and seep down between his teeth. Tino jolted in the arms of the giant.

It took all of Berwald's will power to not throw the young boy on the sand laden ground and ravish him right then and there. The inside of Tino's mouth was just how Berwald anticipated, soft, warm, and sweet. Berwald plunged his tongue into the younger boy's mouth again, exploring, and tasting. Tino's mouth tasted so nice. Like freshly shaven ice on a warm summers day or the sweetest of blueberries fresh from the thicket.

When both of them couldn't breathe any more from the kiss, Berwald pulled their lips apart and held Tino in his arms, pressing Tino's head to his chest. He hoped that that little display of affection would be enough of an apology to the Finn.

"Oh wow Tino. Your boyfriend just beats the shit out of mine, and now you two start kissing? Very high class…"

Berwald and Tino's eyes shot open, their comfortable embrace ruined by the monotone voice. Both boys turned around to see Norway holding a sleeping Björt in his arms, a small Icelandic pack pony waiting patiently behind him.*

"Ah….Berwald, this is my cousin Norway, Norway, Berwald." Tino stuttered out, pushing out of Berwald's grip. He busied himself with straightening his tunic.

Berwald just stood there and sighed. Oh yes, the Gods were defiantly just fucking with him.

…..

I don't blame Berwald for punching Denmark, fucking Danish ninja's be hiding in 'dem bushes everywhere!

Authors note:

"And to find out who in the hell was knocking on his door this early in the Perkele_fucking _morning!*"- 'Perkele' is a Finnish profanity, which funny enough, my Finnish friend hadn't even heard of!

"привет… My name is Ivan. You must be Tino, da?"* - Yeah for having a Russian boyfriend who I can exploit! Anyway, привет translates to "Hello".

"He wanted his wife, and damned if he was going to let some _Ryska_ drag him away.*"- "Russian" in Swedish

"-see Ivan loading a screaming and kicking Tino onto the back of a chestnut mare.*"- I am a total Horse freak. I decided to use the Russian Don as Ivan's major horse aspect, because horses were very valued and worshipped in Russian lore, and well, damn I love those Russian Don horses!

"Both boys turned around to see Norway holding a sleeping Björt in his arms, a small Icelandic pack pony waiting patiently behind him.*"—Fun fact. In Scandinavia, 800-900 to when this story takes place, the only horses that were used were not the long 15 hands tall horses you see today but tiny Icelandic ponies. Look 'em up on google, there so cute!


	7. I love you

Balancing two stories at the same time is not smart! Anyway, due to me juggling SuFin fic's, the next chapter might be a bit late, plus I just got back from New York chilling with Alfred F Jones. Also, this story is based off of an old Swedish poem called "Herr Mannelig" Enjoy or else I will eat your face :3

…..

After a few tense seconds had collided through the small party of men, Tino's cousin, who Berwald discovered was named Norway oddly enough, balanced the small sleeping child in his arms to his hip. Looking to his small pack pony, who was idly chewing on some nearby stalks of grass, Norway threw the braided cords of the halter rope to Berwald.

"You, tall-white-and-shit-ass-scary, go and get my pony some water while Tino and I have a little chat." The dulled voice of the Norwegian rang in Berwald's ears. Seeing as he had no choice, he took the ponies lead rope and began to unbuckle the heavy satchels the animal was laden with. Once the animal was free of all the hastily tied straps, did he lead the shaggy animal into the cool water, watching the animal bend its head to drink.

Norway, setting Björt in a wide wicker basket filled with fox furs, turned to Tino, a stern glare in his eyes. "Tino. A word." The Norseman's voice bit out.

Tino flinched but followed the dull eyed Norsemen. Norway led his cousin into a quiet patch of trees a little ways away from Berwald. Once the Norwegian was satisfied that they were far enough from the Swede, he let loose a glare that would have even scared Odin to death.*

"What are you doing?" the question was simple but was said with restrained frustration. Norway crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a small ash sapling.

Tino swallowed hard and looked to his cousin. "He saved my life Norway, three times…"

"So you sleep with him? Tino, you must keep yourself a maiden for your husband! How do you expect to be married in the spring?" Norway's voice turned to pleading as he gazed at the younger Finn with a brotherly tone. Tino ran his hand up his arm, fiddling with the small stitching of his wet tunic, it smelled like sweat and dirt and it made him cringe.

"I didn't sleep with him! Though, we did kiss… He told me he loved me...Norway, I think I love him." Tino said softly, his voice amazingly sure.

"Do you even know anything about him?" Norway deadpanned his hands on his hips.

Tino nodded vigorously. "Oh yes! I know his name; I know he lives alone in a cave, I know he's kind, strong, and gentle, that he makes wonderful wooden crafts, and that he's Swedish!" Tino said, a little voice gnawing into the back of his head. He really didn't know as much about Berwald as he thought he did. He frowned slightly.

'That's it? It took Denmark a year to get into my pants, and from the looks of it, it only took Berwald a day or two." He said, his voice flittered with a bit of humor.

Tino blushed, his face turning a powerful red. "He has not!" The Finn hissed, looking around the small bushes and rocks, fearing Berwald would come past them any minute.

Norway's eyes opened for a brief second before sliding into thin slits. "Hmm… If you're serious then… He looks like he will make a good husband." Norway muttered, sighing into the thinly chilling air.

Tino smiled softly, his blush waning. "Thank you Norway. So the Troll part of our relationship doesn't bother you?" Tino asked after a sudden thought. Norway raised his brows.

_Troll? _Norway thought, a bit puzzled. Tino thought Berwald was a Troll? Norway shook his head. _Stupid Finn…*_

"Tino, Berwald isn't a—" _SPLASH!_

Norway, distracted from the loud sound heard behind the two, stopped mid sentence. Tino looked past the Norsemen and pattered quickly over the fallen pines and quickly melting snow. Pushing back a curtain of hawthorn, Norway and him looked toward the river to see who or what had made the splashing noise. What they saw made Tino cringe and Norway sigh with annoyance. Denmark had woken up.

Berwald was sputtering, coughing up water, his lungs burning. He had only moments ago been leaning by the creek, rubbing down the horse's legs and checking for stones in his hooves when someone had shoved him into the water. He growled and turned behind him, rubbing his sore legs that were still bleeding from this morning's excursion.

"Who are you, Troll?" The tall man who Tino said was his cousin's fiancé, snarled, his hands up, and fingers molded into fists. Berwald sighed.

"I didn't m'an ta' h'rt ya." Berwald mumbled, standing up in the creek, making his way to the shore. His leg ached with every step, as he ground his teeth together to disperse some of the pain.

"Oh no you don't! You horse thief! Finn seducer! I bet you're Russian, huh?" Denmark growled, shoving Berwald back again. Berwald stumbled over a few river rocks before frowning, becoming frustrated.

" I'm not Russ'n. 'M Sw'd'sh." Berwald said, trying to keep his voice calm. He was already tired and bruised, and he did not need another fight.

"Swedish? That's even worse!" Denmark made a look of disgust as he waded into the river, circling the Swede.

"I don't wanna' f'ght…" Berwald said, trying to reason with the hot headed Dane, but the blonde kept moving towards him. Berwald was forced deeper into the swirling creek water.

"Well too bad buddy because you got a fight! Who are you? How dare you defile Tino!" The man spat, his face brimming with stubbornness, bared teeth pointed like a wolf. Berwald set his river stone eyes into a sharp glare. This guy was making him uneasy.

"I didn't d'file 'em." Berwald growled out, throwing away what was left of his good will. How could the man even assume Berwald would defile his young bride? This guy was really starting to piss him off! Maybe he could throw a few punches at the idiots head without Tino finding out?

"Then you must have stolen him during the raids last night! How dare you!" Denmark shouted, his obnoxious voice ringing in Berwald's ears. Then, like a hawk diving down to capture a small mouse, the Dane struck. Berwald dodged to the left, groaning in pain as his bruised shoulder twisted at an odd angle.

"Don't be such a girl! Fight back ya' damned Troll!" Denmark rumbled, wading deeper into the water. He flung himself at Berwald and the two started to kick and punch, their actions delayed by the heavy currant.

"Stop it! Stop it bother of you!" Tino pushed through the bushes, his voice angry and frantic. Both men looked up, one of Berwald's arms around Mathias's throat, Mathias's teeth sinking into Berwald's flesh.

Mathias spit into the water and glared at the Swede. "He started it…" Mathias growled out.

"D'd not!" Berwald shouted, shoving out of Mathias's grip. He twisted his feet and marched out of the water. He gripped his sopping wet tunic and lifted it up above his head and set it down on a bent bough. The Dane sneered before trudging up out of the cold water. He passed Berwald and nudged him harshly with his shoulder. Berwald glared.

"So… Who's the Swede?" He asked, jutting a thumb out at the taller blonde. Said taller blonde slumped like a bumbling bear to stand behind Tino, his arms protectively encircling the younger Finn. He didn't like the Dane and he certainly wasn't about to trust him to be near his little wife.

"Ah. Him." Norway's voice glided over the air, his eyes drooping slightly. "That's Tino's fiancé." He said it simply before passing by Mathias to collect the pony who had startled when the two large men began to brawl.

"Eeeeeeeew!" Mathias cackled with disgust, he backed away from Berwald and Tino, his tongue sticking out.

Berwald's face joined with Tino's, both as bright as the flame of a Midsummer's bonfire. But it was Berwald who finally spoke of the accusations brought up by Norway.

"Ja, T'no är min brud." Berwald said with a voice of stern compassion and courage.* He dropped his hands back on Tino's shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze as if to reassure himself mostly of his words. Tino squirmed, his blush burning his face like an oxen brand.

"I don't speak Swed-dumbass-ish!" Mathias spit in Berwald's direction, eyeing the Swede's hands on the Finn angrily.

"W'll I don' sp'ak St'p'd." Berwald growled, his eyes beginning to hurt from the lack of his glasses. Mathias snarled at the insult and took a harsh step towards the giant Swede who held his ground, head held high. Tino laughed nervously, wriggling out of Berwald's grip. He stepped between the two and lifted his hands up between the two feuding men.

"Calm down now, it's no use fighting, we have to work together!" Tino pleaded, his voice sounding scratchy from all the yelling he had done this morning out of fright, his heart still silently thudding against his rib cage from the experience. He hoped to all the Gods that it would be the last time he ever saw the tall, violet eyed Russian.

"Work together? With this bumbling monster? HAH!" Mathias snorted. Berwald blinked before pressing the pads of his fingers to his eyes, noting the swollen puffiness around them. He was badly injured… "Just look at him! He's all banged up! He's the sorriest looking Troll I've ever seen! Why he's not turning to stone before my very eyes is a surprise to me!"*

Berwald furrowed his eyebrows downward. He really hated the Dane. It had taken him a while to heal the cruel comments of the town folk of his youth who would repeatedly call him a "Sve Troll". All the Dane was doing was re-opening new wounds, ones that bled and ached as the real ones on his body.

" I'm not a' Tr'll…" Berwald muttered. Tino flinched slightly. Poor Berwald, being made fun of for being different... If only Tino could tell him that being a Troll didn't matter to the little Finn, he loved Berwald either way.

_"Uh-huh! And I'm one of the__ bjergfolk__!"* Mathias snapped loudly. _

_Norway hit Mathias on the shoulder hard. "Shh! You'll wake up Björt!" he hissed, but it was too late. A shrill scream and sobbing could be heard from the small patch of wild grass that Norway had set the sleeping Björt upon. The small child was sitting up with the most terrified look fixed upon his face, his hands turning as white and silvery as his hair as they clutched one of the fox furs. _

_"S-S-S-Sve Troll!" He shouted with horror, his eyes wide, showing white like a bleating lamb in the wake of a toothy wolf. _

_Berwald, taken aback by the child's scream tried his best to control his grimace, turning it into a smile—a smile that seemed to scare the child more. _

_Björt flew from the basket of furs to stumble to Norway, clutching his hands between is older brother's tunic and trousers. His face stained with tears, he began to sob more, pulling his brother away from the tall Swede. _

_"Sve Troll! Please leave us be! Eat Mathias but not us! Please!" Björt pleaded, still pulling Norway with his small childish hands. Mathias frowned bitterly, obviously annoyed. _

_ Norway scooped Björt up and brought him to his hip. He shushed the child delicately and rocked him, saying something that sounded sweet in Norwegian. After a few seconds the child's face took on a look of confusion. _

_ "__Frændi_?" Bjort hiccuped.* He studied the face of the tall Swede for a few seconds before his eyes gleamed with joy.

"_Ég__er með__frænda_!" The small Icelandic shouted with fire and happiness.* He smirked and ran up to the tall Swede before flinging himself at Berwald and hugged his leg tightly. He smiled and buried his head into the Swede's wet tunic.

Berwald was left speechless, he looked to Tino and then back at the small boy that had so quickly come to accpet him.

" Wh't he say?" Berwald asked. He had never been the best at understanding Icelandic.

Tino blushed and smiled softly. " He's happy because he said he has a new uncle." Tino answered, his eyes shining bright. Berwald smiled gently, picking up the small Icelander and proping him on his shoulder. Bjort giggled and smashed his small clumsy hands to Berwald's cheeks, scrunching them up to make a rediculous face. Tino giggled as well, amused by such a silly face that Bjort was making out of the Swede's usually stoic face.

Berwald smiled down at the small Finn, so far his declaration of Tino being his fiance had not swayed Tino in any way. He now only had to wait for the outcome of his words when he was defending Tino from Ivan. He had told Tino he loved him, and by all the Gods he meant it. The little man brought him so much joy and happiness. Just a small smile from the Finn could set Berwald's heart beating like a roasting fire high above the sky. Berwald would glady go into the dank settings of _Helhein_ and spend a half a century with the beastly lady _Hel_ if it meant he could marry Tino.* He loved Tino more and more each day; he only hoped that the Finn loved him as much as he loved him. Oh how he hoped…

But as soon as they came Berwald's thoughts were brought to a crumbling halt as his ringing ears magnificently caught the sound of a horses cry far off. He immediately strained his arms and set the small Icelandic boy down, who began to pout and whine at the lack of attention from his new _Frændi_. Setting his face in a stern glare once more, he brought his fingers to his lips in a motion of needed silence. Mathias's eyes widened, but he quit his grumbling, choosing to join Berwald as the two tall men began to hurriedly clear their tracks along the sand. Something was wrong, both men knew it. But what it was exactly left them both cautious and fearful.

Tino and his cousin exchanged a look of fear for a few split seconds before they hastily hitched up the pack pony once more and loaded the basket of furs and Björt upon the shaggy animal's back, Norway pleading with the giddy child to keep still and quiet, promising a honey cake if he did not make a sound.

Tino was just about finished with setting the third basket upon the wiry animal when his heart stopped dead cold. He turned around to catch the faint but noticeable pounding of hooves. Horsemen were closing in on them from the East; he could hear the heavy sounds of the tall and lithe Russian horses as they jumped over every bramble in their wake. Soon they would find their horse tracks and corner them. Tino swallowed hard. He didn't even want to think about having another encounter with the tall violet eyed Russian.

He just wished the damnable Russian would leave them be! Why him? Why was he after him and his family? Tino clenched his teeth together. His head swarmed and sloshed like the chilliest of swamps. His eyes stung but he willed his tears back. He would not cry. He was a man damn it! It was time to start acting like one; he had to be strong for the ones he loved.

Set with determination and courage in his heart Tino grimaced. He threw the halter rope of the pony to Norway, instructing him with feverish breath to take the horse into the water and walk along it till they reached the tall willows some feet way. Then they should be safe, leaving no clear tracks. Norway nodded solemnly, knowing what was running through Tino's brain. The young Norwegian tucked Björt in the seating of the badly woven blanket before leading the creature down the shallow currant of the pebbled beach, the animal's tail gliding swiftly in the water.

"Norge? What are you doing?" Mathias hissed after his bride. He turned to Tino his face confused.

"Mathias. You four have a better chance of getting away alive if the soldiers take me. They want me not you… I'll tell them I never saw you or Norway pass by the river…" Tino turned to Berwald, his eyes not meeting him directly. "I'll tell Ivan the horse spooked and we were thrown into the river. Only I survived." Tino said, his voice cracking slightly. He took a shaky breath before giving a small smile towards the tall Swede, hoping to convince him that this was what Tino really wanted. Though it hurt the Finn dearly like a throng of arrows plunged into his heart, this is what he must do, and this is what he decided would save his husband.

"You've saved me three times. Now I have the chance to save you." Tino said softly, his voice desperately trying to sound stable. Tino walked closer to the tall flaxen haired man, hugging him round the waist, resting his head against the man's chest, trying desperately to get one more whiff of the comforting smell of pine that was the Swede. Berwald could do nothing but stare wide eyed, his feed solid to the floor, hands hovering over the Finn's shoulders.

Tino was willing to… Was going to… Sacrifice himself for Berwald's life? Berwald shook his head, his mouth left agape. He could not think let alone speak. He wouldn't have it. None of it. He would rather face Ragnarok a thousand times over than see his wife stolen from him again.* He would rather have his ribs broken in the bloody eagle fashion twice—No! Three times!* Until he died of initial shock and pain. He would do anything. Anything to keep his wife safe within his arms.

"Won't h've it." He said finally, his voice stern and harsh. He pressed Tino closer to him and shut his eyes tight. If only he had more time. The sound of the horses feet were fleeting over the ash saplings now. Soon the men would come upon the Scandinavian party and kill them were they stood. Berwald took a curtly intake of breath. He decided right then and there that he would be the sacrifice. Better he then Tino be found with an Eagle carved on his back.*

But apparently Tino had other this racing through his mind. The Finn pushed himself from the Swede and plastered a forced grin on his face.

"Berwald, are you refusing your wife's wishes?" Tino looked taken aback, a playful look in his eyes, doing its best to cover up the Finn's fear. Berwald let a small blush creep up against his face. Wife? Tino was accepting himself as Berwald's wife.

"Did'n mean ta' r'fuse… M' w'fe…" He muttered, not wanting to upset his new wife. Oh how it sounded so good, to be able to address Tino as his cute little wife!

"Hey, can we hurry this up?" Mathias hissed loudly, getting annoyed by the two love birds. The tall Dane already had his sword drawn, his back crowning at a tense angle.

"I st'y." Berwald stated. Tino shook his head.

"I stay. If you love me like you said you do, then you will come save me, alright my husband?" Tino said, his voice still weak and thin, whether from the foreshadowed danger or the fact that he just admitted Berwald being his soon to be husband.

Berwald squared his jaw and frowned. It wasn't fair, Tino being so stubborn. Suddenly and low shriek of a rider's shouting and the lunging breath of a mare caught Berwald's attention. The soldiers were here. Berwald bit his lip. He had to think of something fast. But before he push Tino out of the way in hopes of saving the small Finn, Tino clasped his hands around Berwald's neck standing on tip toe.

"I love you Berwald…. Please don't forget me…" Tino's breathe hurt in the dampening early spring air, but he didn't care. With those shaking words Tino gave Berwald what he dreaded would be his last kiss ever to his loving Troll. Their lips connected sweetly with such soft and melding passion it was like the mixture of rain and snow, of river and sea, field and flower and it made Tino's heart ache with a new emotion he would have never known. Love. Berwald had given him love.

Berwald held his wife close. He vowed he would find Tino, even if it would take him his whole life, Berwald would claim back his bride. Yet all too soon, The Finn pushed his arms away from Berwald and ran up the stream in the direction of the soldiers who, to Berwald's anguish were within view. Their brightly dyed uniforms making them stand out like hellish flames against freshly fallen snow.

Berwald wanted to call after Tino, to pull him back and protect him, but as soon as he made a move to catch up to the smaller blonde a hand yanked him back. Berwald struggled against it as best as he could but the person dragged him against the tall statures of the pines, covering his mouth with some red cloth.

Berwald whirled his head around to see Mathias grinning at him. "Relax Troll, Tino knows what he's doing! He's a strong lad, he tamed you did he not? He'll be fine." The Dane said quietly but with as much fire and zeal in his voice as if he were singing a bards battle song. Berwald struggled against the man's strong grip, kicking his head back and trying to hit Mathias's chest.

"Easy Berwald! Do you want to let Tino's hard work go for nothing?" Berwald looked behind him to see Norway, his body huddled into a cramped form, arms wrapped around a fidgeting Björt.

"Tino said it himself. He loves you, now all you have to do is rescue him once Ivan brings him back to the village." Norway whispered, trying to get Björt to settle. Berwald twisted his head with stubbornness back to the river banks. What he saw made his heart lurch with anger.

Three soldiers had dismounted, already grabbing Tino. The young Finn began to curse wildly, shouting, kicking and biting. He was like a wild little goat, kicking the soldiers shin's and stomach. Needless to say he made Berwald proud with his fighting spirit. But still the little Finn was no match when two other soldiers joined the fight. Three men held down Tino's legs and arms while the others wrapped a tight silk cloth around his wrists, Berwald guessed so as not to leave any rope marks when they brought him back. Berwald ground his teeth together. How dare they tie up his wife! He cursed bitterly within his confines.

…

Tino bit the nearest hand that dared to touch him. Though his hands were bound by the surprisingly silky cloth, he would not let these men best him. He head butted the smallest of the men, a young blonde with purple-ish blue eyes. The young boy cried loudly with pain, whimpering before sulking back. The other two didn't seem to be able to put of much of a fight, slipping over the ropes and tripping as Tino ran around them, splashing in the water, trying to make a break for it. Only when the soldier with the long flowing hair hit Tino on the back of his head did he go down with a sputtering halt.

He winced as he was picked up easily by tiny slender hands, the back of his head aching and throbbing.

"I do not know what my brother wants of you… But to please him, I will take you along with us." The deadly yet sweet voice of a women graced Tino's ears. He looked up to see the scowling and disgusted face of a women that reminded him of Ivan, only her hair was much more longer and her eyes colder. Tino swallowed hard.

"Where is the Swede?" The women asked, ripping Tino's hair up from his scalp. He growled and bit his lip. The women smiled, reaching into her pocket her hands lingered on an object in her woolen coat. Licking her lips once she pulled out a long unsheathed knife.

"Tell me or I will kill you." She sneered. Tino shut his eyes.

"He died!" Tino shouted, his voice wracking into sobs. The women's eyes widened.

"He died? How?" she asked with uncertainty.

Tino sniffed quietly, secretly pleased with his lying abilities. "The…The horse…" he sobbed quietly. "She spooked when some water birds flew up and her bridle came loose… Berwald was thrown into the river and….drowned." Tino hanged his head low, as if hiding his tears.

The women's eyes closed to thin slits. She barked at one of the men, a skinny green eyed brunette who skittishly smiled before wading into the water. After a few seconds the young man came back, holding the remains of a ripped bridle, the very one that Berwald had thrown into the water. Tino bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the girl would believe his story.

The girl paused, looking back and around the small scenery of the rushing river. She sighed inwardly before tugging Tino up.

"Place him on Eduard's horse. We will be riding out to the village now. Make hast!" she hissed. "You do not wish for my brother to be angered by our tardiness." The three men hear Tino gulped in unison before loading Tino on the back of a dappled grey horse. Tino, who was too tired to fight back at this point, swung his head low near the haunches of the horse. He didn't know if it was the trick of his dizzy head or Loki, but he could have sworn he saw Berwald's wonderfully gleaming eyes boring into his, then… Tino blacked out.*

…

I'm sorry it seems so rushed, but I have to get over a few parts before I make it to the actual plot line :3

Authors Notes:

-"Once the Norwegian was satisfied that they were far enough from the Swede, he let loose a glare that would have even scared Odin to death.*"—_Odin was the main patron God in Norse mythology, he was ruler of all and the father of many. He was mostly feared in battle. He was, in summary, BAD ASS!_

-_ "Troll? _Norway thought, a bit puzzled. Tino thought Berwald was a Troll? Norway shook his head. _Stupid Finn…*"—_Since in the manga Norway has a pet Troll, I thought I'd make him the Troll expert.

-"Ja, T'no är min brud."— _"Yes, Tino is my wife." (In Swedish) _

_-_ Why he's not turning to stone before my very eyes is a surprise to me!"*- _Once again, in Norse Mythology it was said that a Troll turned to stone when hit with sunlight._

- _"Uh-huh! And I'm one of the__ bjergfolk__!"*- "Danish Troll" _

_-"__Frændi_?" Bjort hiccuped.*- Uncle in Icelandic

- "_Ég__er með__frænda_!" The small Icelandic shouted with fire and happiness.*"—_I have an uncle!_ In Icelandic.

-Berwald would glady go into the dank settings of _Helhein_ and spend a half a century with the beastly lady _Hel_ if it meant he could marry Tino.*- _Helhein _was basically Norse Hell but instead of being all fire and having the devil, it was cold and damp and ruled by the daughter of Loki named _Hel_, who was a rotting evil ugly women.

-He would rather face Ragnarok a thousand times over than see his wife stolen from him again.*"-The end of the world for Gods and humans. Oh Snap!

-He would rather have his ribs broken in the bloody eagle fashion twice—No! Three times!*- Basically this was an old Viking torture method in which the person was tied down and had their chest carved open, their ribs pulled up and cracked backwards to resemble bloodied Eagle wings and their lungs ripped out as well as having salt poured onto their wounds, Yum Yum.

- "Better he then Tino be found with an Eagle carved on his back.*"—Once again, men were found on the battle field with their stomachs to the ground, and an Eagle carved on their backs. It usually meant they were tortured before they died.

- "know if it was the trick of his dizzy head or Loki, but he could have sworn he saw Berwald's wonderfully gleaming eyes boring into his,"—Loki was the God of Mischievous and is said to bring the end of the world.


	8. Unexpected Marriage?

I'm sorry! People have been complaining that this story has become too rushed, the reason for this is because this story is based on a Swedish ballad, so I have to dive into the actual ballad before the plot is solidified. I'm sorry to all those who may find this chapter rushed, but I hope you like it anyway! (By the way, Sweden should have won Eurovision! grrr)

...

Tino didn't know how long he had been rendered unconscious. Once he cracked open his eyes, he felt the full effect of the pain coarse through him like a waterfall grating against sandstone. He smacked his lips and found the bottom of his mouth had become numb. Scraping his chin against something hard and warm, he looked down to see that the earth was rushing underneath him. Alarmed out of his mind, he quickly stretched his neck up. Only wishing he hadn't.

His neck felt so stiff, his stomach sore and his head throbbing. He felt like he had been clubbed to death by a hiisi!* Tino groaned once more, his throat as dry as a desert. He wanted to go home. He didn't know where he was or where he was going. All he wanted was a nice comfy bed, some warm barley mush in his belly, and the strong arm of Berwald to cuddle with. Tino froze.

Suddenly all the memories of what happened flooded into his brain like a million bees let loose, biting and stinging at his temple. He remembered being woken up by the soldiers, racing through the meadows, and finding his cousins and brother in law before being taken away from his soon-to-be-Troll-husband. He scrunched up his face and pleaded with himself not to cry. Soon he was going to be in the hands of the Russian. He would not let that man see him cry. Not ever.

Tino bit his numbed lip and hung his neck low. His head was dizzy but he could at least draw the conclusion that he was strapped onto a horse, thrown over the saddle like a sack of salamaki. He frowned deeply.

Fidgeting with the ropes that burned against his thin chemise, he growled. He wanted off of this horse, and he wanted it now! With a starting effort he thrashed and bucked, using his stomach to bend his body up and down.

The horse that he was thrown over gave a surprised throw of his head, his footing trembling as Tino tried to free himself.

"Whoa, whoa my friend. Please calm down! You wouldn't want the horse to break free and drag you from the saddle?" A nervous and almost pitiable voice greeted Tino's ears. Tino lifted his eyes, his mouth drawn into a scowl.

"You are not my friend." He spit out, glaring at the owner of the voice, a blonde bespectacled with glasses. The glasses only made Tino think of Berwald. He felt something inside him tear his heart.

The man laughed nervously. "Yes, it may appear that way... But I assure you, you will be well taken care of in the hands of Ivan..." The blonde man muttered, his face growing pale.

"Why do I have the feeling your lying to me?" Tino growled out, his throat hurting with every word. He felt that under different circumstances, he and this young man could be friends, but now...

The man laughed nervously again. This put Tino on edge and he was starting to wonder if he could kick the horse in its side and risk falling off. Anything was better than being in the Russian's possession.

"Well, he does treat people a bit...harshly," The man swallowed hard. "But, you are his honored guest! I am sure he will treat you fairly. My name is Eduard by the way."

Tino stared at him, his expression furrowed into a look of distrust.

"This is how he treats honored guests?" Tino murmured underneath his breath. Eduard smiled as he rubbed the back of his head, a small bruise forming from when Tino guessed he hit him during the tussle. Tino did not feel the need to apologize for the wound.

"He will treat you with respect. You are to be his bride, he must treat you with kindness." Eduard turned his back to Tino and began to lead the horse again by the reigns on foot, leaving Tino speechless.

"Wh-what?" Tino shouted, not caring how much noise he was making. Did he hear correctly? Bride? Ivan wanted Tino to be his bride? Tino paled, his eyes widening and his heart lurching. No...no...no!

He did not want to be that damnable Russian's wife! He dreaded the thought of those brutish fingers touching his body in intimate ways. He cringed and shut his eyes tight. He was to be Berwalds bride, not Ivans!

Feeling determination stab him in the gut he raised his head and gritted his teeth. Bracing his stomach muscles, he lifted up his tied feet and quickly brought them down in a quick jabbing movement that set the horse into a startled jump. Tino shut his eyes tight and clenched his shoulders together to keep his neck from from breaking should he be thrown from the animal.

Eduard did his best to control the bucking beast, but the horse was relentless with struggle, and Tino-who kept kicking-was just making it worse. Finally, the other people in the capture party had dismounted their own horses and were now trying to help Eduard with his.

"Steady, Steady..." the long haired brunette held his hands out to the now white eyed stallion. The gruff looking horse nipped at his hands and gave a skittish side step as Tino spasmodically began to clip the horse with the heel of his feet.

"Are you mad? If you fall off you'll die! Die!" Eduard shouted to Tino who was working on rolling back and forth on the animal. whoever tied him to the back of the horses saddle had used a complicated knot that looked to be as big as Tino's fist. Tino grimly smiled. Once again, Die on a horse or be in the arms of the Russian. Tino knew which decision he would make.

"I would rather die on this horse than be in the arms of that Russian bastard!" Tino shouted, his head becoming painfully dizzy. He thrashed around wildly making the horse even more agitated.

"He's insane!" The little one with the violet eyes peeped up. He had a length of rope that he was using as a lasso to reign in the horse but with the animal loping and kicking around he couldn't get close enough.

"If we don't bring the Finn back safely, Ivan will have our heads!" The brunette shouted nervously.

"Let him die. He dares to take my place as my brother's wife? He can die on top of the damned beast." The cold and solid voice of the long haired girl startled everyone. She glared towards the slowly calming horse and the wriggling Finn atop it. Turning her back to the small group of frantic men she swiftly glided back atop her horse and gave a sharp kick to the animals ribs. The animal galloped off through the trees leaving the three highly inadequate men and a feisty Finn all a lone.

"Poor Natalya. She seems to be taking this marriage very hard..." the brunette mumbled before turning back to Tino. The others nodded once before setting their eyes back on the issue at hand. Bringing Tino back safely in one piece, or else they would be left in several pieces themselves.

"Please, just stop protesting and come with us! If we don't get you to the village unharmed then Ivan will kill us on the spot!" Eduard reasoned once more, his voice becoming desperate. He padded through the earth, trying to sneak up on the horse. Tino snarled and shouted something at them that sounded like a death threat in Finnish.

"He's scary..." The littlest man yelped, taking a step back.

"Yes he is Ravias, but Ivan is more terrifying..." The brunette muttered.

It was the male with glasses who finally sighed and snatched the rope from the smallest male.

"I'm sorry but this has gone far enough! I...I...I'm sorry that this is against your will, but..." Eduard gritted his teeth and flung the tied rope to the still restless horse's head. "It's either our neck or yours!" He shouted, pulling the rope till it constricted. The animal ducked its head low and pawed out the ground. The brunette quickly roped one of the horses hind legs to keep it still, holding steady. Ravias rushed forward with a small knife and quickly cut Tino down. He screamed in anger.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted as unknown hands swiftly yet awkwardly heaved him up and off the floor. He wobbled and winced, noting all the scuff marks on his bared legs and feet. His knees were bruised and he had a it of dirt on his back,but other than that he was unharmed.

He blushed quickly as he smoothed out his soiled nightgown, spite reaching over his face as he remembered how he had been thrown out of his own house. He growled.

He was about to make a break for the froth of misty trees that were all around him when he felt a throng of hands yank him back.

"Liet! Hold him steady!" Eduard commanded. Within an instant the brunette had held Tino's hands to his waist in a constricting hug. He yelped and kicked when he felt the overwhelming discomfort of heavy and itchy ropes wrapped around him, the feeling sickeningly familiar.

"Its not too far to the village, he can walk till then..." Eduard announced sorrowfully. He pushed Tino ahead while Liet and Ravias mounted their horses, leading the still skidding grey stallion along. Tino groaned remorsefully. He only hoped Berwald was doing better than he.

...

"So, have you fucked 'em yet?" Mathias grinned, throwing the loosened straps of the saddle onto the pack pony. He began to tighten them before he was smacked on the back of the head.

"Why are you always such an idiot!" The Norwegian mumbled with annoyance. Berwald just glared at the Dane.

" 'course not. Not m'rr'ed yet..." Berwald growled out. Plus why did the Danish man have to say it in such a vulgar way? Could he had said, made love? Bed? or Sleep with? Berwald was beginning to hate this man more and more with every second.

"We should be talking about Tino, not such private things." Norway sat down, Björt in his lap. He glared at Mathias for a split second before turning back to Berwald.

"Ivan's dangerous, who knows what he'll do to Tino if he gets the chance. We have to go rescue him fast." Norway said, dead serious. Berwald nodded with full understanding.

"I don't know if you and Tino have realized this but, sometime after the mysterious winter storm the village was attacked." Norway muttered, petting Björt's head lovingly.

"When the Russian's attacked the village they set half of it in flames. Only a small portion of the villagers survived..." Norway's voice quieted. Mathias cupped his lovers hand betwixt his own, his face solemn and stiff. Berwald just stared.

"Mathias and I were taken captive shortly after the soldiers entered the northwest part of the longhouses. They locked us up in a barn with another family for a good hour before they came back to check on us. When they did... They were bathed in blood... And we could see smoke rising from outside..." Norway looked down to the floor. He held Björt close to him and looked back up slowly, cautiously, meeting Berwald dead in the eyes. The Norsemen's eyes were cold, dead.

Berwald didn't flinch. He knew what was boiling deep inside the Norwegian. It was hate. Hate for what Ivan and his men had done. Hate for what Ivan and his men would do.

Berwald understood it and felt it too. He wanted revenge for all the pain Ivan had caused this family, and especially for all the hurt it had caused for Tino. Berwald quickly stood up and looked towards the forest.

"I'll st'p Ivan... Ya' h've m' w'rd..." Berwald rumbled. Norway's eyes widened once, before his face quickly crumbled back to its neutral state.

"We will help you in any way we can." He whispered, his chin resting on Björt's softly fine hair. The little Icelander smiled in his sleep before snuggling up close in the arms of his brother. Mathias wrapped his arms around the two.

But as soon as the comforting feeling entered them, it was rushed away by the thundering noise of a lone rider. Berwald stiffened before glaring northward. Norway's eyes widened and he quickly tucked Björt to his chest, trying his best to not wake up the sleeping child.

Mathias and Berwald trudged from the undergrowth of the low willow trees from where they had hidden to confront the lone rider and see if they were friend or foe. Berwald was guessing foe. The stepped beneath the slowly budding heather, breath chilled, eyes scanning outward.

As soon as the horse galloped towards them, Mathias spit on the ground with anger. He threw a sword to Berwald who caught it easily. They both hunched their shoulders and squared their legs, getting ready to attack should the need arise.

When the rider drew closer the two tensed. They could hear the animals wild head tossing, hear the clink of the chain mail and smell the death on the person. It was the woman rider from this morning. The one that had hurt Tino badly. Berwald's face tensed into an ugly glare, his eyes blood thirsty. He wanted revenge. By the Gods he was going to take it!

Mathias looked to Berwald and nodded sharply. Both men looked ahead and, in a quick second bolted through the brush with a blood curdling yell ripping through the air. They charged at the animal and it reared, the rider brandishing a small dagger. She clenched her teeth before sliding off the animal in an elegant fashion. Mathias and Berwald advanced on her and in a matter of seconds she was thrown to the ground harshly. She groaned once, before rolling on her side, propping herself up with her elbows.

She spit blood onto the earth. "Is that how you Scandinavian bastards treat a lady!" She growled. Mathias's grin was none too pleasant. "Only ones waving around knives who burn people to death." He barked. The woman frowned.

"I need your help and you need mine." She helped her self up, but was stopped. Berwald had the tip of his borrowed sword awfully close to her wonderfully paled neck. Just a small flick of the wrist and she would go down and stay down. Permanently.

"Yoo t'k m' w'fe." Berwald rumbled, edging the blade closer. His voice shook like a sudden stampede of wild horses, and it trampled all over the woman's ears. The woman held her breath.

"I can help you get him back. I can give you important information." Her voice was cold and malicious, but Berwald could tell she was speaking the truth.

"Why would you help us?" Mathias rested his hands against the heel of the sword. The Dane's eyes were sharp but his body was relaxed, laid blonde woman looked up at him, her eyes full of watered hatred. Berwald cringed.

"I want the Finn gone. My brother is planning on marrying him which is unacceptable. He is mine." She growled out.

Berwald's eyes snapped into a sharper glare. Marry? But Tino was to be his wife! Not the Russian's!

"What can ya' do to h'lp?" Berwald removed the sword from the woman's neck. She took a shuttered breath of air as if she'd never breathed before. She stood up softly, with the gracefulness of a swan.

"Today, once the Finn,"

"T'no. His n'me 's T'no." Berwald corrected her, his glare hardening. The woman blinked before sighing irritably.

"Today, once Tino is brought back to the village my brother will marry him to be, as he puts it, "one with the land". I cannot have that. My brother is foolish with love, like a cruel child. He doesn't realize that I am to be his wife. I can not do anything against my brothers wishes directly for fear of him hating me. Yet in order to call off the marriage, I need someone to challenge the marriage. I need a suitor for the Finn." The woman flicked her eyes to Berwald.

"Troll. Do you love him?" The woman's solid gaze made Berwalds sea green eyes dim lightly. He swallowed hard.

"I do."

"Then fight for him. Today, in a little more than a few hours, my brother will take Tino to be his wife if there is no one to object. You must stop it. You must get your lover back by any means necessary-short of killing my brother of course." The blonde girl held her head up high once more, straightening her skirts. Berwald held back a twang of annoyance. He wanted nothing more than to kill the Russian bastard...

"If you should need any help in your task Troll, you must merely whisper "Belarus" into the nearest stream and I will come find you. I will help you in any way that I can." she paused before narrowing her eyes.

"I shall be waiting to see you today, before the wedding, Troll. I will not have my brother marry that Finn. Fight my brother and get back your Tino, or lose him forever. It is your choice." And with that she turned on her heel and jumped delicately back on her saddle, clicking the reigns and galloping away in a movement so fast that it appeared as if she was never there at all. Berwald and Mathias were left to stare at the slowly fading sun, muddling over the proposition there ears had just heard.

...

After Tinos little stunt on the horse, he had been forced to walk along side the man named Eduard, while the other two Baltic men rode their horses. The three men simply felt that the little Finnish man could not be trusted. Plus, after letting loose the ropes tied to Tino's feet, the lithe blonde had kicked Liet in the groin so hard he fell down with a sickening groan. Tino was quiet pleased, the rest of the men, not so much.

After an hour of hard walking Tino began to feel so tired and extremely depressed. His knees were hurt and bruised and his stomach was growling. He desperately wanted a drink of water but he would absolutely not ask for anything from these traitorous men!

Tino shielded his eyes. The sun was dying fast, leaving only a few hours of daylight left to grace the land. Or what was left of it Tino discovered. The scenery that met his eyes made his throat grow tight and his heart shatter. All along the village ashes and charcoal remains scattered the dirt floor. Tino took a shuttered breath before noticing most of the barns and huts had caved in, leaving rubble and debris strewn across the ground. It was an ugly sight. And Tino knew who exactly to blame.

What was even worse was the stench that invaded his nose. It was sour and tangible, solid and musky, and when he opened his mouth to breath, it laid on his touch like a patch of molded butter. He cringed before stepping over the remnants of shattered cooking pots, the days meal still caked inside of them.

Though nothing compared to the sight that greeted Tino next. Atop the largest and widest building that served as the town hall, banners of gold and blood red, with a mortified terrible looking two headed eagle greeted Tino's eyes. He cast his eyes around him and blinked. What must have been a hundred people crowded around the town hall. All of their clothes ripped and torn, some with scuff marks or burned stitches. Tino let loose a breath he hadn't known he was holding. These were the survivors of the attack.

He looked onto the sea of people and found that they were all staring at him. People who he had know since he was a little boy, who had watched him grown up, now looked at him with and odd emotion plastered and streaked on their faces. It was an odd look and it made Tino stop and stand still, even when Eduard nudged him to move forward.

The look in their eyes was pain... Pain and hope. Tino knew what had made the pain in their eyes. But what he dreaded more, was the thought of what caused the hope. Something in his gut told him he did not want to find out.

...

Sorry if it seems rushed ^^"""

Authors Note:

-"He felt like he had been clubbed to death by a hiisi!*"-A hiisi was a typical Finnish Goblin, or Orc.


	9. Challenge Accepted

**Hey Guys! Sorry this update is so late! But in a week or so I will be visiting a place with limited internet access, so I want to upload as many chapters as I can! Once again this story is based on a Swedish Balad titled "Herr Mannelig". I DO NOT OWN HETALIA NOR THE SONG! Please enjoy this story! Reviews are needed to keep the wild jagged tooth dolphins at bay!**

...

Tino was pushed forward, the coarse ropes straining painfully against his modest clothing. He felt shame and damaged pride as he was led through the remnants of the town in only but his filthy night gown, his face undoubtedly dirty. His knees were bruised and his hands tied behind him like he was a lame work horse that was to be put out of its misery. Tino couldn't help but wish that he was. Anything was better then what supposedly lay ahead for him. Even death.

Tino felt uneasy, like the stitches of an old tapestry, he became unraveled and torn at the seems. He was terrified at what power the Russians had already displayed. Half of the the village laid in chard ruins, the other half only burned skeletal remains, just like its people. Women with colorful scarfs wrapped around their matted blonde hair, men with makeshift cloth slings helping to keep their broken arms from dragging to the blood soaked floor. Children, burned or dirtied littered the streets, teeth missing from their smiles. Smiles? Why were they smiling? Tino had the feeling he didn't want to find out.

Eduard walked next to Tino and did his best to smile, but Tino could see right through it. Eduard was just as afraid as Tino was, but of something different entirely. Eduard was here just like Tino, because he feared for his life. But Eduard could run away and no one would hunt after him like he was a dog. Tino was more than sure if he dared to escape, he would be torn to bits by the Russian dear hounds.

Tino knew why he was brought here now. He was a trophy, a rarity. Ivan didn't want him really. Tino was sure he would have taken anyone of his choosing. No, it was the fact that Tino had run away. Ivan did not seem like the kind of man who was used to the word 'no'. I was most likely the fact that Tino had deliberately defied the Russian and did his best to escape with Berwald.

Berwald.

Tino felt his heart clench as the first tear slid down his face, becoming a dull brown from all the dirt caked on his cheeks. He sighed and ground his teeth. Burying his cheek in his shoulder he wiped off the offending tears with anger. He would not shed a single tear in the Russian armies presence.

And oh what a presence it was.

A hundred men or so all lined up like big slabs of firewood stuck into the muddy earth. Each man had his hands on the heel of his sword, other gloved hand at his side. They all looked dangerous and none to happy. They were handsome though, Tino had to admit, with either rich dark hair or wheat colored locks that danced in the baking afternoon sun. But what they had in good looks they lacked with smiles, each one rough looking and leering. Tino sneered and growled at them, he would have spit at them too, but Eduard jabbed him in the ribs harshly and told him to mind his manners. Like Hell he would.

"Juokse! Juokse! Kaikki on parempi kuin tämä! Älä ryhdy vankinsa! iskeä takaisin!" Tino shouted out to the straggled and sinewy people that had survived the attack. Tino ground his teeth together and whirled around, the ropes around his body tightening and clutching at his skin even more, leaving nasty red burns-but he didn't care.

"Death is better than this! They will torture you if you lie back and take it! Fight back! Fight back I say!" Tino pleaded, his face burning with anger, his feet drenched in a thick and sloppy mixture of upturned mud and red velvety blood. He swallowed thickly and willed himself to remain calm. He had to stay calm.

"Oh you silly little Finn. They have been broken. Just like you will be, da?"

Tino froze where he stood.

All at once he forgot the biting sensation of the ropes, the squishing mud and blood underneath his feet, and the stinging stench of burned flesh. He forgot all of it when he heard that voice.

Turing his head unwillingly to the front of the village he saw on a hobbled rock castle that served as the room and board Inn, a row of soldiers lined up along the sides of it. The vibrant red flags danced along the black stained boarders, smoke still billowing from the cracks in the mortar that had had oil strewn all along it, being set aflame in the attack no doubt. No simple strike of lighting could have done this. The Gods would not be so cruel. But Ivan was.

Speak of the Devil.

Ivan sat perched on a wood carved chair in the front of the inn, the long haired women from this morning at his right, another taller, bigger breasted women at his left. Tino looked to the unfamiliar woman and say that she was twisting nervously, her hands wedged into the edges of her light blue dress, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Tino stared on with silent pity. It appeared even those close to Ivan were terrified of the man.

Ivan placed his hands gingerly on the arms of the chair, the knotted wood sprawled with intricate designs of leaping horses and bumbling bears. Slung over the chair was the skin of a small bear, its left paw slung on the chairs arms. Ivan was sitting comfortably in the chair, the epitome of perfection. His hair had been combed over his violet eyes so much like Tino's, only they burned with the hunger of death, like a Valravn.* Tino shivered. Nervous? Who, him?

The tall and disturbingly giddy Russian was wearing a tan flax tunic with leather brown armor and a metal encrusted belt with the wings of a two headed eagle as the belt. Tino swallowed thickly and stood up straight. He would not be intimidated.

"I am not marrying you Ivan." Tino shouted out to the Russian. Tino knotted his fingers together in a fist at his sides. The Russians grin grew bigger, his eyes closing to thin slits.

"My, My, forward aren't we, little Snow Bird?" Ivan purred. He swung his legs over the chair and stood up, a long cloak lined with rabbits fur spilled downward, gliding against a grand and decorated sheath of a sword. Tino willed his body to stop shaking.

"I will not marry you. Leave my village while you still can." Tino growled out, annoyed by the little nickname he had already acquired.

All around his the spiteful chuckles of the Russian men violated Tino's ears. Somewhere a dog barked and a horse neighed.

"You are in no position to make threats my little Snow Bird." Ivan's gentle smile curled into something more intense, more sickeningly sweet. Tino backed up a step.

"You think you can win my hand at marriage by killing half of my village? Are you insane?" Tino cried out. He wedged aside from Eduard and tugged at the ropes, a glare smudged on his pale face. Ivan made a small nodding movement to the Liet who nodded quickly, his eyes darting back and forth, like a jittery animal about to go into slaughter.

Liet quickly trotted over to Tino and undid the thick and heavy knotting of the ropes. Once the ropes flew down from the Finn's bruised body, Tino sighed heavily before gripping his wrists and rubbing them furiously. They were already red, all ready marked.

Eduard, Liet and Ravias all scurried to the right, leading their tired and sweaty horses to the low set paddock that housed all of the soldiers lithe and startlingly beautiful horses, along with what remained of the villagers small Icelandic ponies.

Tino sneered at the three dispersing men before turning back to Ivan who had began to walk over to Tino, a bounce in his step, smile on his thin lips.

"I am not insane little Snow Bird. Nyet. I am merely playful." Ivan smirked before placing his gloved hand against Tino's face, stroking it against the pale Finn's cheeks. Tino jerked back, his face set in a snarl.

"Don't touch me." He breathed out, still standing his ground. Ivan's smirk grew deeper, like a valley sinking into the earth, into Hel.*

"Why? Because I am not the Troll? I am a knight little Snow Bird. I am much better than the stupid bumbling beast that has been invited into your bed. Why not take me as your husband? I am at least mortal. I am yours. And you are Mine. Mine." Ivan smiled, crooking his head to the side. He spread his arms out wide, like a monstrous dragon about to take flight.

"You have no place to run, no place to fly Snow Bird. I own your wings now. You are clipped. Trapped." Ivan chuckled lightly. The warm spring air picked up and whirled Ivan's hair against his eyes, his cloak whip lashing against the earth. Tino felt rage build inside of him. How dare this man come and destroy everything Tino had held dear to him. Ivan had destroyed, killed, and trampled everything the Finn ever had. His family, his home, and his one true love. Ivan could rot on the floor for all Tino cared.

"What are you even talking about? You make no sense! You are insane!" Tino yelled out. He backed away from Ivan, scanning his eyes around him. The Villagers had all huddled around in a wide circle, looking onward, the same gaze left in thier watery yellow eyes. The look of hope.

But hope for what? What? Tino felt like ripping his head from his scalp. He was so frustrated, so confused! He had to find a way to escape, to get away from this madman!

"You are my connection to the land! If I marry you then I will become one with the land, da? I want to become one. I will rule this pitiful wasteland and make it great. With you at my side my little Snow Bird, we shall conquer all. We will pull down the mountains, bleed the rivers, and wound the earth. The stars will bow down before us! I am a knight, and you will be my squire and my bride. I can offer you many things, da. But only if you are mine." Ivan smiled. He made a grab for Tino but the little Finn shrieked and side stepped, doing his best to escape the Russian mans grasp.

"Do not try to fly away little Snow Bird. If you do not marry me I will kill all these people. You are the only thing keeping them alive. You are their hope." Ivan mumbled. He made a grab for Tino just as the little Finn was about to turn around and run for the braced circle of soldiers all around him. Tino's eyes widened in horror at what Ivan had just told him. He was the villages only hope at life? Tino shook violently, trying to dispel the hot tears that so painfully pricked his eyes.

Ivan clasped his hands roughly on Tino's shoulders and heaved the Finn up and over his shoulders, tucking his legs with his other arm. Tino kicked and screamed violently, feeling his chemise flutter and jerk against his legs. Ivan chuckled and patted his rump. Tino did his best to kick him in the rib.

"We will have a wedding today my fellow friends! In one hour, I, Ivan Braginski will become one with the land! All are welcome!" Ivan's giddy voice vibrated over Tinos ears. Tino shut his eyes and growled his teeth together. All around him the soldiers made a pounding noise with their spears, the metal and wood thudding against the earth, making and sickening thud and boom. All smiles on their lips, some even cheered.

Tino watched with horror as the villager's eyes widened with hope. Most had pity in their eyes, pity for Tino, but they feared the end of the swords and spears more than to help the little Finn. Tino was doomed. No one was going to save him. No one was coming to help him. Berwald and his family had probably been already captured and had been killed. No one was going to rescue him. No one.

Tino hung his head low and slumped his shoulders down. This was it. It all ended here.

"St'p!"

Tino froze in the grip of the Russian. His eyes slowly opened, slowly widened. All around him grew silent. The soldiers stopped their mad pounding, the children quieted their wailing, even the wild dogs left in the village did their best to stop their yips of hunger.

Tino jerked his head upward, twisting in the Russians now rigid grip. Tino couldn't believe what he saw. In the middle of the muddied circle, flesh bruised, burned and scarred, head held high, eyes gleaming with might, stood Berwald. Berwald. Tino's heart ceased to beat.

"I...I...Ber-Berwald?" Tino breathed out thickly. His voice felt raw and rough, as if he had never used it once in his existence. His body wracked and shook, the first edged of a tear littered his dirtied face. He sobbed.

"Oh? Look who came to see the wedding. The Swedish Troll." Ivan's voice burned into Berwald, but the tall blonde man stood his ground.

Tino spied movement from the edged of soldiers and saw with heated breath, Mathias and Nikolas carrying Björt emerge from the crust of Russian men, a crude smile placed over Mathias's face, axe gleaming and shinning in hand. He walked up to stand next to Berwald.

"I came ta' ch'll'nge ya'." Berwald growled out, his glare heavy and stern, like a vicious mountain lion looking down on a wounded animal. Ready to pounce.

Ivan smirked. "Challenge me to what, Troll?" His voice slid over Berwalds like a snake, thick and weighted, dry and none to amused. Berwald's face hardened.

"I'll f'ght ya' fer T'no..." Berwald said, his voice collective and calm. But Tino noticed with worry just how angry the Swede was. He had a borrowed sword in his hand, his scarred chest glistening with sweat and dried clumps of blood. His hard stare clung to his face, his eyes were squinted, one of the glass shards in his spectacles broken. Tino shuddered with desperation.

"Berwald...Oh Berwald...!" Tino sobbed out. He kicked and fought and bit in the Russians grip. Ivan smirked but threw Tino to the ground were he landed just inches from a pile of blood soaked rags. Tino cringed.

He quickly staggered upward and ran through the sludge and soil that the Russian horses stomping had done to the land, everywhere signs of struggles and battles imprinted in the earth. Tino bit his lip before letting all the hurt, worry, and fear that had welled inside him, stream out like a broken dam. Tino flung his arms into the Swedes and felt those strong and powerfully gentle arms wrap him tightly to and even stronger body. Tino cried out loudly, not caring who heard, not caring about being strong or manly. He had had enough of acting tough. He wanted to cry and damn anyone who tried to stop him.

"Oh, what a happy meeting. Too bad it has to end with death, da?" Ivan sing-songed. He raised his hand up and swiftly threw it down, his grin wide, fake, and very dangerous. Within a few seconds a thick wall of soldiers had advanced on Tino, Berwald, Mathias and Nikolas pulling them apart like a wolf ripping meat from the bone. Tino kicked and screamed, gnashing his teeth together. From the corner of his eye he could see Berwald fighting off the soldiers as best as he could as well, his sword flashing, eyes open and deathly stubborn. Mathias was swearing, his smile bright, dogmatic teeth gleaming, he took a swipe a Russian soldier, winding him and throwing him to the floor. Mathias stood in front of Nikolas who had picked up a piece of shard wood and was swinging it at a clump of Russian men, his face glaring.

"Wait!" A calm and solid voice shouted into the now chaotic air. Both the soldiers and Berwald paused, their weapons still raised, this ready to slice and kill anything if need be.

Tino turned his head to see the women from this morning, with the long flowing hair walk daintingly over to Ivan. He face was angry, but lacked the flush blush of wrath, instead she was as firey as below zero ice. Her eyes flashed over to Berwald for a split second before she returned her gaze over to her brother.

"Brother dear, the Troll has challenged you. Are you but not going to indulge this forest mongrel in a battle? You know the rules, once someone has challenged the groom for the bride..."

Ivan sighed, his eyes flashing nervously for a second. He inched away from his sister and stared back at Berwald who had stepped forward to wrap his arms around Tino's waist, his other arm brandishing the sword.

"I am well aware of the rules of our clan, Natalya." Ivan's gaze hardened, the smile dissolving from his face.

"Fine. Troll, you challenge me for the hand of the Finn?" Ivan asked, his face grim, a smile still in place.

Berwald nodded curtly.

Ivan's smile split wide open, like lightning that just struck a tree in half. Tino bit his lip.

"Here are the terms. Whoever gives Tino the most wonderful gifts and treasures win. Tino is very special to both of us, as we can both assume. He deserves pretty things, da? So. He will chose which gifts he prefers more. Mine. Or yours."

Berwald hardened his gaze. "I acc'pt. 'N if it comes d'wn t' a tie?" He muttered, looking to the tall Russian. Ivan clasped his hands together.

"Then we fight and who is the best...and who is dead." Ivan smirked. He looked behind him and waved to the other woman that had been nervously standing by Ivans throne-like-chair.

The woman hesitantly trotted over to Ivan, her face in a tight pout, short blonde hair gathered up behind her with the thin strip of a decorated headband. She feebly bit her lip and looked to Ivan, as if waiting for him to direct her action.

"This is my eldest sister, Katyusha. She will take Tino and get him cleaned up. While he is getting prepared, you will have one hour to amass all of your gifts. Use the time wisely Troll. It may be your last time on this earth, da?" Ivan smirked.

Berwald ground his teeth together. "No. Can't tr'st ya. Yer S'ster can h'lp 'em get cl'aned up... But w'th Nikkolas w'th 'em in th' b'rn over th're..." Berwald mumbled, his face was hard and angry, untrusted.

Ivan's eyes widened, his mask slowly crumbling, but within a second it was back in place, cautious and smiling. All smiles.

"Da. You are a cleaver Troll. A few of my soldiers will go with them though." Ivan said.

Berwald nodded curtly. "Th's fine. But keep one a' tha' doors op'n." He grunted. Ivan nodded, turning to his eldest sister.

"You really don't trust me, da?" Ivan mumbled, pretending to be hurt by Berwalds words.

"No. I don't." Berwald growled out. Ivan sighed, his lips painted in a smile.

"Katyusha?" He smiled sweetly towards his sister, a real smile. She blinked a few times before breathing heavily and nodding. She hesitantly walked over to Tino and lightly took his arm, Nikolas with Björt glued right next to Tino's other side. The Finn frowned but did not protest. A few soldiers walked with her, carrying a wicker basket that had piles of clothing in it, a wash rag, and a bar of lye soap. Another man carrying a few pales of hot water. Tino bit his lip.

"It'll be 'kay... Berwald mumbled to Tino, his eyes weary but solid, sure. Tino took in a a deep breath before smiling weakly. Berwalds small smile gave Tino some added strength and he nodded to the Swede. He bit his lip before slowly standing on tip toe and kissing Berwald lightly on the lips. Berwald blushed but smiled softly, sweetly. Oh yes, he wold fight the Gods themselves if he had to. Tino was never going to be taken away from him again. Berwald would make sure of it.

"Well Troll. You have an hour. Make use of it, Da?" Ivan smiled childishly at Berwald before turning around, his ever presence scarf whip lashing in the now added breeze, making the smell of burnt rubble stiffen around the air. And hour to save his wife. Berwald sighed. It would be done.

...

"You have to what?" Mathias barked out. His Axe was resting on his shoulders, a displeased growl on his lips.

Berwald sighed. "Ya' h'rd Iv'n... I gotta' get T'no B'tter g'fts th'n 'em..." he muttered. Mathias's face furrowed in a frown, his eyes sharp and confused.

"What the hell kinda' challenge is that?" He yelled. After Tino had been escorted to the barn, Mathias and Berwald had shuffled to the chard remains of a small hut, trying to think of a plan of how to acquire better gifts than Ivan. Neither of them had any money and they both felt this challenge was particularity unfair.

"Well, you know if you just get Tino a clump of dirt or a rotting piece of cabbage, he'll still pick you to marry." Mathias mumbled sourly. He raked his hands over his wild and frothy hair, as if the answer to their problems would be drown out from his golden locks. Berwald sighed, sitting down on the remains of a broken stool, one of its legs kicked off.

"Iv'n won't st'nd fer it. It h's ta' be good. Wh'se ta' say Iv'n won't j'st lie n' k'll us." Berwald growled out in frustration. Mathias chucked.

"The guys crazy but not that crazy. Ya just gotta do better than him enough to get ya both ta' tie. Then you can just kick the crap outta' him and smooch the Finn and then get the hell outta' here!" Mathias chuckled. Berwald bit his lip, his lips turning a bit pink.

"True love will always prevail, Berwald! Even for a Troll! You just gotta believe!" Mathias spoke out loudly.

"How ya' s'pp'se we get good enough g'fts?" Berwald mumbled with heated and tired frustration. The notion of true love conquers all was nice, but its not like gifts would just randomly appear?

"Like, we'll totally help you!" Said an unfamiliar feminine yet still male voice. Berwald and Mathias turned around to see a few villagers, men and women, all lined up in the door way, their clothes scuffled and torn, each one carrying a basket in their hands. Berwald and Mathias looked to each other before a small smile graced each of their lips. Mathias turned back to the small group of people and grinned.

"Told ya'. The power of true love conquers all?" He smirked to Berwald. Berwald sighed deeply and couldn't help but let small smile grace his lips. Yes. Love does conquer all.

...

**Can you guess whose going to help them? Holy crap! Sorry for all the scary dramatic stuff! ^^"""" I don't hate the Russians! My boyfriend it Russian so I have no quarrels with them, its just in terms of History the Finn's and Russians aren't too good of friends. I hope you like this chapter! REVIEW PLEASE OR HANA-TAMAGO WILL EAT MEHHHHH!**

**Authors Notes:**

-"Juokse! Juokse! Kaikki on parempi kuin tämä! Älä ryhdy vankinsa! iskeä takaisin!"- **Roughly translates to "Run! Run! Anything is better than this! Don't become his prisoner! fight Back!" In Finnish.**

-"His hair had been combed over his violet eyes so much like Tino's, only they burned with the hunger of dealth, like a Valravn.*"- **A Valravn is more popular in Danish lore but eh, whatever. It was a raven that had eaten dead warriors flesh on the battle field thereby inheriting human intelligence and supernatural powers. The often went after children in the middle of the night and ate them to gain human/and or/wolf forms.**

-"He breathed out, still standing his ground. Ivan's smirk grew deeper, like a valley sinking into the earth, into Hel.*"**-Helhein was basically Norse Hell but instead of being all fire and having the devil, it was cold and damp and ruled by the daughter of Loki named Hel, who was a rotting ugly women.**


	10. Herr Väinämöinen

Hey guys! This story is almost done! ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO! Once again, this is based off of a Swedish Ballad titled "Herr Mannelig". I suggest listening to it on youtube by either the Swedish band "garmana" or the German band "In Extremo" for an awesome experience while reading this! WARNING OF RELIGIOUS THINGYSSSS (sorry but it fits with the Ballad that its based on ^^"") I DO NOT OWN AXIS POWERS HETALIA! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS, YOU ARE THE MOST AWESOME PEOPLE IN THE WORLD!

This chapter is a special thanks to "MonochromeFox" whose many reviews helped me to keep striving! Thank you so much! So, enjoy the seconds to last chapter of "Waiting for Spring".

...

Tino winced as the hot water was rubbed against his skin in rolling waves. He smelled horrendous, like he had romped in a troph of mud with a few pigs. He winced once more as the scratchy wash cloth was pressed to his arms and to his sides. He was naked except for a small blanket wrapped around his waist, but he didn't feel like being modest, now not. His legs had already been soaped and scrubbed, his hair cleaned of blood and twigs, looking shiny and soft.

Katyusha, Ivan's sister, gently combed her fingers over Tino's back, flicking off hard crusts of mud, mindful of the Finn's newly acquired bruise's and scratches. Nikolas was busy drying Tino's hair with a soft piece of cloth that one of the soldiers had given him, Björt slung on a makeshift hammock like bundle on Nikolas's back.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry my brother is so willful. I wish he wasn't but he is. I'm sorry..." Katyusha billowed, her cheeks already becoming rosy and pin-pricked with tears. She sobbed quietly.

"I'm sorry we came here. I'm sorry. We weren't supposed to. We were supposed to stay to the East. I'm sorry." Katyusha bawled, her hands quivering. Tino sighed. He placed his finger tips against Katyusha's cheeks, making her look at him straight in the face. Her eyes shone bright, and watery. This woman had done too much crying, making her look like a small, feeble young girl.

Tino furrowed his brows together and felt a tear slide from his face as well. He wanted to be brave, oh how he wanted to be brave. But when ones world is crumbling, falling, spiraling downward, how could he remain in one piece? Tino didn't have know the answer. His heart ached and was torn in so many pieces that it could hardly be called a heart. All he wanted was Berwald, no one else. He wanted to touch no one else, he wanted to kiss no one else, he wanted to love no one else.

"Its okay. Its not you're fault. You are not responsible for your brothers actions. All you can do now, is wait with us. Cheer for us. Pray with us. Hopefully the Gods will grant us our freedom from your brothers cruelty." Tino breathed out exhaustively, his hands shaking like the branches of a willow sapling in a storm. He knew even if he picked Berwald's gifts as best, Ivan would demand that the two males fight for his hand. Tino sighed desperately. Berwald was already hurting greatly from the past days attacks and strife's. He probably was so weak. The giant of a Troll hadn't even eaten this morning. Tino sighed anxiously.

"Pray to the Gods? But... I and my brother and sister are of the Russian Orthodox Faith." She murmured, looking to Tino, her doe eyes wet and wild. Tino furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?" Tino whispered harshly. Nikolas had long since stopped his chore and was looking to Katyusha, his eyes neutral, blank. The Norwegian furrowed his brow and looked at Katyusha straight in the eye.

"Would your brother still wish to marry Tino if he knew he wasn't of the new religion?"* Nikolas asked. He heaved Björt up to the crook of his neck, his breath exhausted. Katyusha bit her lip, wringing out the small water soaked cloth stained brown and red by Tino's ravenous skin. The water fell and spiraled down ward, soaking into the heavy earth. Plop, Plop, Plop.

"I...I don't know. I don't think he could marry someone of the old religion... Our General Winter would not hear of it..."* Katyusha murmured softly and frantically. Nikolas's eyes grew hardened, calculating something in his head.

"Would it be enough? Would Ivan not be able to take Tino's hand?" Nikolas spoke, his voice sparked like an ember, consuming and wild. Katyusha shut her eyes and furrowed her brows in a childish pout. She shook her shoulders, her ribbons to her hair fluttering.

"I don't think he could. No, no he couldn't. He wouldn't! General Winter would not agree to it!" Katyusha's voice broke and a small smile broke her lips, eyes still dusted with wet tears. Her eyes widened with realization. She clasped her hands together and squeaked with joy.

"Tino... We have to tell Ivan! We have to stop this!" Nikolas's voice rose above the hut. The two soldiers by the opened door grunted something at Katyusha, their spears jutting to Nikolas. Nikolas growled and held the babe in his arms closer.

"The soldiers told me to tell you to be quiet...They are weary of conspiracy." She whispered to Tino, wrapping up his body in a soft white cloth she squeezed and dried him off. Tino looked to the soldiers and growled. One of the soldiers chuckled.

"I will do my best to tell General Winter that you are not of the new faith. This may spare you Finn, I hope it will. No one should be forced to marry against their will." Katyusha clasped her hands to Tino's cheeks and kissed his forehead.

"God bless you little Finn. I hope you will be able to marry your Troll." She smiled then and it melted Tino's heart. Ivan's eldest sister was nothing like her brother. She was kind, loving and as sweet as could be. Tino only hoped her plan would work. He hoped it would, or else they may be too late.

...

"Like, we all came out here when we heard there was some hot studly guy going to like, challenge Ivan and junk! We want to help!" The blonde Polish man that had offered his assistance to Berwald smiled brightly. The man, who was surprisingly wearing a pretty little green hangerock, small flaxen stitches decorating its front, shoved a small basket in Berwalds bearish hands.* Berwald took the basked with suspicious eyes before looking over the cloth draped bundle.

The bundled shifted and wiggled slightly, leaving Berwald wide eyed.

Feliks smirked and lifted the small beige cloth from the simple woven basket. All of a sudden as flash of white leaped at Berwald and the snow white blur began to lick furiously at his cheeks and face, its white little tongue faster than anything Berwald had ever seen. He chuckled.

Berwald held up what appeared to be a small tiny dog. The dog yipped and barked loudly, wagging her stubby tail, her beady black eyes shining wildly and bright, like a star caught at dusk. Berwald smirked.

"I own a small horse stable near here, its like, really pretty and pink! When Ivan attacked the village he, like, stole all my ponies. Just this morning he took my last twelve... The little, like, bitch, needs to get knocked down a peg or two!" Feliks growled, placing his hands on his hips.

Berwald handed the cute little ball of fluff to Mathias who grinned and tucked the pup in his arms kissing it and making baby noises. The dog bit his nose, a smile on her cute little doggy lips.

"Damn brat!" Mathias growled. He placed the wriggling pup underneath his arm and growled. Berwald chuckled before thanking Feliks gratefully. The little Polish man bowed and smirked.

"You know, I'm sure you get this a lot but... Are Trolls more...like, well endowed then normal guys?" Feliks smirked, his face devilish, eyes drawn to slits. Berwalds face heated up with such and intensity that he stuttered and coughed loudly. Mathias gave a willful chuckle before smacking Berwald behind the back.

"Why don'y ya' ask Tino! I'm sure he knows!" he cackled. Berwald shifted his eyes to glare at Mathias, his sea green eyes looking as destructive as a tidal wave of sharp ice cold water. Mathias shivered.

Feliks giggled before turning around in the small space of the hut, letting the next person come up to present their helpful gift.

It was a man, but not just any man, though. Berwald ground his teeth together in a snarl. He loomed to his full height, his feel crunching underneath the baked soil. He barred his teeth, his eyes dangerous and crystalline.

"I'm...I'm sorry about all that my friends and I were forced to do...I'm sorry we had to do Ivan's wishes. We wish we could take all of it back but we can't. So we beg for your forgiveness and present this gift for you." Eduard, the man that Berwald saw throw Tino onto his horse like a sack of potatoes bent low to the ground, his trousers and tunic dragging against the charcoal soil. Two other men, the small shivering boy with the purple blue eyes, and the brown haired Lithuanian bent so low to the earth that their noses touched the heavy scented ground. Eduard placed a low dipped basket at Berwalds feet. Berwald, his face still angry, picked up the basket and drew back the cloth.

Inside the small basket was a mound of thin pieces of bark, all pungent and ripped or torn. They stung Berwald's nose, but he recognized what they were. Eduard did his best to smile sheepishly.

"We thought your Tino might like them. They are licorice root, fresh from the forest, picked just this morning. They were a wedding gift for Tino when he was to be married to...well... We stole them from the kitchen and brought them to you."* Eduards hunched up his shoulders and sat up. He extended his hands upward and handed the basket to Berwald. Berwald sighed deeply but smiled.

"Ya r'sked yer l'fe ta get these... Th'nk ya." Berwald mumbled. He set the basket down at his feet and clasped a hand around Eduards wrist, helping him up. Mathias did the same for the other two men.

"We hope you win this challenge Troll. For your wife..." Eduard smiled then, a free smile. It was one that was not tarnished by fear or by nervousness. It was bright and hopeful and it made Berwald smile. He could do this. So many people believed in him. He was sure he could tear the Russian to shreds without even breaking a sweat. At least, he hoped so, for his wife's sake.

"I'm not a' Tr'll... I may look b'g n' sc'ry... but I'm j'st a n'rmal man..." Berwald mumbled out, scratching the back of his head. Eduard smiled once more. It was the littlest of the men that stood up then, his shoulders had ceased to shake, but he still bit his lip nervously, his head bowed low. Then, slowly, he lifted up his head and gave a small upturn of the lips, his eyes wide and sincere.

"We all know you're not a Troll...But... We call you so, because, well... Because you have a heart as big as a Trolls." The little man titled Ravias mumbled out. He blinked rapidly before giving off a sheepish grin.

"We never meant to tease. We never meant to hurt, or to sadden you. We will admit, we were all afraid of how scary and terrifying you look. But... You're just like any other man, striving for whats right, finding love and doing his best to keep it. We all should be more like you Sve Troll. We are sorry." Ravias mumbled out, his voice like the whisper of the wind or the small splash of a minnow. Berwald flicked his lips up in a smile. He patted Ravias's tiny head and thanked him. That was one of the most nicest things anyone had ever said to him.

The next person to stand up was Ivan's youngest sister, Natayla. The woman did not bow, but she blinked upward, her eyes dull and tarnished, her mouth fixed into a pout. She looked deathly serious.

She shoved a package wrapped carefully with twine and leather into Berwalds hands. Berwald took the light gift in his arm, his eyes still scanning the serious looking girl. The girl sighed in frustration before putting her hands on her hips, her smudged ridding tunic still in place, her bow slightly askew on her snow colored hair.

"I want you to win Troll. You must defeat my brother and become victorious, you win this battle, and my brother will have to give you the Finn. My brother belongs only to me. I must have you win." She breathed with anxious breath. Berwald nodded, his body stiff, hands rigid around the present.

A few seconds past before he quickly unwrapping the light gift, watching the leather slip and slide down his wide palms.

Inside the soft confines of the wrapping, was a small white little hat that looked like a cute little beret. It was soft to the touch and as white as snow on a Yule morning.* Berwald ran his hands over it before noticing a small strip of leather tied loosely in a knot inside the hat. Berwald picked up the leather cord before noticing a small metal symbol dangling before the knotted end of it. The symbol was of a small little crudely made bear, with jagged lines and swirls dancing across its simple body. Berwald stared at the animal before looking back to the woman who he once thought foe.

"Th'ank ya, I don' know wha' ta' say..." Berwald mumbled.

"The hat was made by my eldest sister Katyusha a few months ago. She told me to give it to you as she has a plan to ensure that you win your Finn's hand at marriage should your gifts fail. The bear was a necklace I received as a peace offering at another Finnish town that we visited... We were... much less hostile entering that town, therefore we were welcomed. I hope these gifts may gain you the Finn's hand at marriage." Natayla whispered out, her voice as sincere as Berwald had ever heard it.

Berwald nodded and thanked her with a low grunt. Natayla smiled slowly before shoving something else in Berwalds hands. He caught it swiftly and noticed upon inspection that it was a navy blue tunic trimmed with gold, along with a change of soft brown leather armor. Berwald looked to the woman, noticing that she was bowing, not incredibly low to ground as the other people, as her pride would not allow her to, but just low enough to let Berwald know she meant it.

Once she stood back up she was holding something else in her hand. The heavy weight of a shield was balanced neatly in her hands. She held the shield out to Berwald and he took it with hesitant movements. The shield was of light but sturdy wood, ash perhaps, and with the intricate designs of gold that bled on a background of a blue the color of the rugged sea. Berwald held the shield out, slipping his forearm into the leather bolted strap. He brandished the shield out before him for all to see and smiled grimly.

"Th'nk ya..." He murmured. Everyone's voices went hush. The Belorussian women nodded curtly before turning around and exiting the skeletal remains of the hut.

"Good luck to you Troll. You are going to need it." She muttered seriously, her voice like venom, ice. Berwald shut his eyes and nodded. Knowing what she meant was true.

It was Mathias who them clapped his hands on Berwald's shoulders next.

"I found this in Tino's cottage hanging up on a hook. I thought it was yours, so I carried it along. I hope it comes in handy." Mathias grinned, pressing the familiar and relaxing weight of Berwald's huge sword in his hand. Berwald's eyes widened before he accepted the sword. He smiled softly to Mathias. Maybe the Dane wasn't as stupid as Berwald had first thought?

"Now! Lets go kill some Russians so Berwald can go pound a Finn into the mattress!" Mathias cackled, pushing his fist into the air.

Berwald sighed. Maybe he spoke too soon.

Then, without warning, low in the sky, a single bell tolled. Berwald and Mathias looked upward, out from the cracked ceiling to see a huge brass bell swinging madly in the sky. Both men growled and looked back to the others.

"Help us carry these gifts, hopefully they will be enough and we won't have to fight..." Mathias mumbled out to the other people. After shuffling the change of clothes over his bare shoulders Berwald hiked up the shield and sword and looked grimly outside. Already villagers were lined up, some carrying flowers or baskets of food, others with angry looks in their eyes. Berwald swallowed thickly. Everyone sighed and helped to carry the baskets, Berwald himself carrying the cute little puppy and his shield and sword. He prayed to the Gods he would not need them.

Once everyone was outside Berwald snarled. in the middle of the circle stood Ivan, his face gleaming bright, arm wrapped around an angry looking Tino. An angry looking Tino in a dress...?

Berwald stiffened his body and didn't even bother to hide the deep red blush that was dusting his features. He let loose a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, his eyes still transfixed on the Finn before him.

Tino was wearing a powder blue dress that fit tightly in all the right places, leaving the Finn's supple hips and flat chest painstakingly noticeable. Berwald bit his lip and did his best to stop drooling. Tino fidgeted frantically, shrugging away from Ivan's touch, wringing his fingers into the smooth and drape like cloth of his dress. The dresses bodice was of a whitened flax, the long sleeves almost dragging to the Finn's knees. He shifted uncomfortably.

"He cleans up nicely, da?" Ivan smirked, nudging his arms against Tino's pulling him closer than Berwald would have liked.

"Get yer h'nds off a' 'em..." Berwald growled out.

Ivan smirked. "Da. Of course. I have our entire honeymoon to find out what is under this dress~!" Ivan giggled. Tino growled out like a fox that had its legs wedged in a trap, his face burning red. Berwald fixed his hardened gaze on Ivan.

"I pr'm'sed s'meone I wouln't k'll ya... I'm r'gr'ttin' that pr'm'se." Berwald said, his voice like the rumbling of a thousand horses, bare hoofed, trampling over the mountain ranges. Ivan smirked and laughed a boisterous laugh that sent shivers down Tino's arms. He looks fearfully to Berwald and saw that a small group of people were hiding behind him, each one with a basket. It was then that Tino realized that Berwald himself was carrying a small basket with a thick blanket over it. Tino bit his lip.

"Well then Troll. Since you are so eager to harm me, shall we commonsense with the gift giving? Da?" Ivan spoke like the fluttering of birds. Berwald nodded curtly.

Ivan clasped his hands together and smiled bright, like a freshly lit bonfire. Berwald ground his teeth out. He wanted to throw this damn manic into a bonfire.

"I'll go first, da?" Ivan grinned. He snapped his fingers and in an instant a few soldiers came out with two chairs, both ornately decorated. Each chair had a velvet throw settled on the backs of it, Tino furrowed his brow. He did not want to sit in one of those chairs. But, without any choice, Ivan pressed Tino by the shoulders into one of the contraptions of furniture, making the Finn squeak with nervousness. This only made Ivan grin more.

"My little Snow Bird, I hope you will accept my gifts, a sign of how much I love you, da? I am not of the disgusting monstrous blood such as your Troll, but am of the pure blood of a Knight. Take my hand in marriage, for if you don't, I will fight this filth to the death, da?" Ivan smiled sweetly to Tino. Tino gripped the arms of the chair till his knuckles turned a bone white. He would never give in.

"Sir Väinämöinen, Sir Väinämöinen won`t you marry me? For all that I`ll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no, da? Will you do so or no?"* Ivan sang out, his lips upturning in a sweet smile that Tino knew was fake. Tino shook his head with vulgarity.

"No." Tino spat out.

The Russian man, his pride still in place, paused to look over Berwald with complete disgust before snapping his fingers. Ivan grinned, wide, like a wolf about to rip out its prey's throat. Tino jumped.

In an instant, a highly decorated soldier wearing a dull yellow tunic rounded the corner of the paddocks and led on foot, a row of horses. Their coats gleamed in the bright afternoon sun with a boisterous white, their heads raised high and tossing, eyes rolling to show porcelain white, their feet breaking the soft earth with their sharp hooves. One of the horses, the lead, tossed his head up so high that he gave a small buck and a grappling whine. Tino stared in awe. These horses were beautiful

Ivan beamed at Tino, clasping his hands between his. Tino pulled his hands away and furrowed his brows, an ugly snarl placed on his lips. Ivan sighed with childish frustration.

"To you I will give the twelve great steeds that graze in a shady grove. Never has a saddle been mounted on their backs nor had a bit in their mouths." Ivan went up to one of the horses and patted its long and sleek mane. The horse bared its teeth stamped its hooves. Tino frowned.

"Sir Väinämöinen, Sir Väinämöinen won`t you marry me? For all that I`ll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no, da? Will you do so or no?" Ivan repeated, his smile never dimming.

"No." Tino replied again through his chapped lips. The sun blared off of his head and soon he felt dizzy, but he would not give this Russian any satisfaction. He would remain strong through the end, strong for Berwald.

Ivan sighed but snapped his fingers again. Suddenly, another soldier, with a leather belt and a knapsack dangling from his shoulders trotted over to Ivan. He knelt down to the ground before Tino and held out the knapsack. Ivan took it with one swipe and the soldier backed away, his shoulders shaking. Ivan turned back to Tino and handed him a scroll of paper written in English. Tino took the paper with angry hands and read the top of it. It looked like to be a deed for some land or some building. Tino looked up at Ivan, giving him a frustrated and questioning look.

"To you I will give the twelve fine mills that stand between Tillö and Ternö. The mill stones are made of the reddest brass and the wheels are silver-laden."* Ivan smirked, his hands lazily resting on Tino's shoulders. Berwald growled.

"Th'ts Swedish L'nd!" He hissed out, placing his hand on his sword hilt. Ivan chuckled.

"Relax, da? I bought it fair and square. I didn't kill for it like I will for Tino." He beamed, almost provoking Berwald to unsheathe his sword. Berwald strained his fingers over the brass hilt of his sword before taking a step back. He was itching to knock a few Russians out, but not now. No, he could wait. He had been waiting for a long time, a few more minutes wouldn't matter much.

"Sir Väinämöinen, Sir Väinämöinen won`t you marry me? For all that I`ll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no, da? Will you do so or no?" Ivan repeated and still Tino denied him with a harshly said "no". Ivan would still not be deterred.

He snapped his fingers and again a soldier appeared on foot, carrying a sheath of the softest leather Tino had ever seen. The young man with corn silk hair knelt down and drew the sword from its sheath. It slid out smoothly like the whisper of the wind when it flows over the lakes. The blade glinted a dangerous silver, as if it had been cut from Sköll's jaw itself.* Tino shivered.

"To you I will give the gilded sword that jingles from fifteen gold rings. And strike with it in battle as you will, da? On the battlefield you will conquer." Ivan lifted up the beautiful sword with the dangling rings. He held it up to Tino's face, to his violet eyes. Tino did not even blink.

"Sir Väinämöinen, Sir Väinämöinen won`t you marry me? For all that I`ll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no, da? Will you do so or no?"

"No." Tino's voice bit into the stubbornly hot air. Tino pushed the sword aside and turned his head. Ivan sighed, the first inklings of frustration pinching and biting into his skin.

Ivan snapped his fingers again, and this time Katyusha appeared, carrying a white and lustrous gift indeed. It was a shirt that gleamed a frail white, its material looking smooth to the touch, like a seal's pelt. But still Tino held his tongue.

"To you I will give a brand new shirt, the lustrous best for to wear. It is not sewn with needle or thread, but crocheted of the whitest silk." Ivan ran the sleeve of the shirt against Tino's cheek. Tino did not budge.

"Sir Väinämöinen, Sir Väinämöinen won`t you marry me? For all that I`ll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no, da? Will you do so or no?"

"No." Tino spat at the ground. Ivan growled out with anger. He threw the shirt to the floor and glared down at the Finn, his eyes sharp and unmerciful.

"How can you not accept any of my offers?" He snarled, grabbing Tino by the collar of his dress. Tino only stared with venom in his gaze.

"'S m' turn..." Berwald mumbled out. Ivan looked to him with sheer annoyance before letting go of Tino's dress front. He gnashed his teeth together like a wolf that had had its tail bitten off, but hotly slunk to his chair, his annoyance painted on his face richly. He looked like a child that been ordered to sit in the corner as a punishment.

Berwald took a deep breath and walked over to Tino. He knelt by the small Finnish boy that he had come to love so much. Taking a big intake of air, he slowly pulled off the small patch of blanket that was covering the basket and out popped out a little white head with a small wet black nose and two beady little eyes. Tino shrieked with joy. A Puppy! The small dog yipped playfully before bounding up the chair to sit on Tino's lap with a soft 'plop'. Tino smiled softly, combing his fingers over the puppies soft and curly fur. He looked to Berwald and smiled brightly. It melted Berwald's heart.

"Ta' yoo I g've a puppy. As pr'tty as a fl'wer, n' as wh'te as a' egg. She will br'ng ya' much joy n' h'pp'ness." Berwald mumbled outward, patting the puppy on the head. She barked joyfully and snuggled into Tino's chest. Ivan just smiled grimly.

Berwald, still kneeling, accepted the next gift that Mathias handed him. It was the fat basket filled to the brim with the licorice root. Berwald once again took a big breath of air.

"Ta' yoo I g've a b'sket full'a l'cor'ce root. Fr'sh fr'm tha' for'st, dug fr'm earth. It's cut fr'm the root a' life an'll cure any cough." Berwald removed the cloth to present the strips of ripped licorice root, brown and beige in color, some still with clumps of wet earth clinging to them. Tino's mouth watered.

Berwald pushed the basket closer to Tino before collecting the next gift from Mathias. Tino held the puppy close, his gaze intently fixed on Berwald.

"Ta' yoo I g've a n'ckl'ce a' silver n' le'ther. M'de in the symbol of tha' karhun, he who wears it is k'ng a' tha' f'r'st."* Berwald carefully untied the knot of the necklace and gingerly placed it against Tino's throat, tying it tightly, but with enough room so Tino would not choke. Tino placed his hands longingly on Berwald's fingers feeling tears prick his eyes, he begged himself not to cry. Berwald smiled weakly before taking the next gift from Mathias.

"Ta' yoo I g've a beret made a' wool n' fl'x. It's w'ven n' sm'll, but It'll keep ya' w'rm durin' the w'nt'r..." Berwald mumbled. He placed the small white hat atop Tino's head. Tino sobbed quietly, hugging the panting dog to his chest.

"Herr Väinämöinen, Herr Väinämöinen won`t ya' m'rry me? For all th't I`ll gl'dly g've yoo. Yoo may answ'r only yes 'r no. W'll ya do so or no?"* Berwald looked up to Tino with a pleading look in his eyes. Tino starred back at those green river stone eyes and smiled sweetly. He knew what he would answer, knew how much he loved Berwald and how he did not care if the man was a Troll. He would gladly become the wife of the Troll, no matter what troubles awaited them, no matter who wanted to tear them apart. Not even the Gods could change his mind now.

" Berwald, oh yes! I will gladly marry you!" Tino wailed happily. The little dog pounced off of his lap and Tino flung himself into Berwald's arms. Berwald smiled brightly, tears threatening to spill from his own eyes but he willed them away. This was a happy moment. He would not cry. Instead he wrapped his arms around Tino's petite frame and held him close, whispering comforting things into his ear, telling him it would be alright while Tino sobbed un-relentlessly into his shoulders.

"Sorry to cut the happy couple short, but I believe I did say I would fight to the death to win back the Finn." Ivan's sickeningly sweet voice sliced through their happy moment like a wolves fangs sinking into flesh. Tino wiped his eyes bitterly.

"I choose to marry Berwald. Not you. Even if you do slay him, I will forever hate you and will never, ever, marry you. I do not love you and I never will." Tino said calmly, surely, facing Ivan, his eyes cold and hateful.

Ivan chuckled low in his throat. He wrapped his scarf more securely across his throat before reaching for his sheathed sword and pulling it out with a hiss of metal against leather. The sword glinted in the sun, its blade looking freshly sharpened. Ivan bit his teeth into a smile.

I don't care if you will never love me. I will become one with you, one with the land, da?" Ivan cooed. He advanced on Berwald in a flash, brandishing his weapon like a pike, aiming at Berwald's stomach.

Berwald pushed Tino to Mathias and swerved to the right, avoiding the Russian's sword by mere inches. Ivan skidded to the left in the thick mud, his boots making sickeningly sloshing noises. He snarled, his eyes still bright and joyful, but soon they cracked and s into slithered something more demented, more horrendous. Berwald gritted his teeth.

"Mathias! T'ke T'no as far as ya' can fr'm here!" Berwald barked out, clashing his own heavy sword against Ivan's. Sparks flew maliciously as both men struggled to keep their weapons poised, both evenly matched.

Tino fought and kicked in Mathias's grip, swearing and biting, demanding he be put down and be able to fight. Mathias grinned but held the Finn tighter, dragging him off to Katyusha and Natayla who were waiting anxiously by the group of villagers near some burned down huts.

"We have to stop them! They will kill each other!" Katyusha wailed. Mathias ground his teeth together and shook the Ukrainian women by the shoulders.

"Listen! We have little time! I need you and your sister to go find your 'General Winter' or whatever! Get him here as quickly as you can, or the two idiots will both be dead!" Mathias growled out. Katyusha wailed once more before Natayla nodded, her scowl still in place, and pulled her sister by her dress outside, muttering about how much of a baby she was.

"Nikolas, I need you to get some horses ready for when we bolt outta' here!" He said, grasping his fiance's shoulders. Nikolas nodded, hugging Björt closer to his chest. Mathias smiled grimly before running his thumbs against the Norwegians cheeks. He lightly kissed him on the lips and smiled.

"We'll get outta' here alive. I promise." he whispered. Nikolas swallowed harshly, his eyes sparking with emotion for a near second before he nodded.

"If you die, I'll kill you..." he mumbled out sourly. Mathias laughed loudly.

"Keep Tino safe, I'll be back in a bit!" He said, a deep grin shoved on his face. Nikolas nodded. Tino, who had the small dog in his hands after the little puppy chased after her new mommy during the commotion, looked to Nikolas. Nikolas sighed but quickly grabbed Tino's arm. Setting Björt down, Nikolas quickly produced a small knife from the knapsack tied to his tunic belt. Working with stealth he held the cloth of Tino's dress in one arm and began to madly cut away the edges of the dress. Tino shrieked and widened his eyes.

"What are you doing?" He breathed out. Nikolas smiled, a rare smile that seemed truthful.

"You can't ride a horse in a dress..." He muttered, grabbing Tino's sleeves and giving them a harsh slash. They fluttered to the ground and Tino smirked.

"Ready to go kick some Russian ass?" The little Finn growled out. Nikolas nodded, picking Björt back up again. Tino scavenged around the small hut till he found a piece of broken wood. Picking it up he walked carefully out of the hut and to the paddock, scurrying behind hay bales and piles of logs, being mindful to be quiet and not to be seen.

Hovering and tiptoeing, the two boys quickly spotted the low set rails of the paddock corrals. Nikolas silently walked past a few stationed soldiers who were too busy looking at the Russian and the Swede battle it out. Tino felt the breath in his throat falter as his wide eyes caught the sight painfully displayed before him. Berwald had a huge patch of blood that was leaking from the material of his tunic, Ivan's own sure a deep red, dripping thick currants of blood. Tino gasped.

Ivan raised his sword and smashed it to the ground inches from Berwald's legs. Berwald backed up and threw his shield to block the next wild throws of Ivan's blows, each hit sending him further to the ground till he was kneeling, his sword flying in the air, trying to keep up. Ivan snarled and jutted his shield to Berwald's shoulder, knocking the Troll down. Berwald grunted painfully but stood up, his back covered with flaking mud and earth. He growled.

Mathias shouted something harshly at Berwald and soon the Dane was advancing behind the Russian, but a few soldiers that weren't occupied in keeping the now restless crowd of villagers, walked stiffly up to the Axe wielding Danish man and jutted their spears at him. Mathias laughed and swung the edged of the blade at the men, snapping off the tips of the spears like mere twigs.

Nikolas furrowed his brows together as he did his best to call over some of the horses that were already tacked up with saddle and bit. Gathering the rein's of four horses, all huge in height and length, Tino and Nikolas quietly hushed the startled animals and unlatched the unattended gate, leading each of the tall beasts out as quietly as they could. Once they had rounded the back gates were they wouldn't be as easily seen, Tino and Nikolas both mounted their horses and led the other two to the fighting males. The horses threw their heads back and wined. Tino pulled on the reigns and clicked his tongue, trying to get the willful horses to calm down. What was making them so upset?

Then Tino saw what made the horses so giddy, and it made his heart was crawling through the mud, his sword stuck in an upturn of earth. Ivan must have disarmed the giant Swede in his relentless attack long ago. Berwald held his shield up to take the impact of another heated blow from the Russian.

"Give up Troll! You are a beast! A devil! Tino could never love you!" Ivan screeched, his smile turning bright and bloodied. Berwald grunted painfully.

Tino's eyes widened. His body hummed with anger and anxiousness. He swallowed thickly and took a big breath. He squared his shoulders and threw the horse's reigns that he was leading to Nikolas, gripping his own horses bride fiercely. The animal rolled its eyes and chomped at the iron bit. Tino smiled grimly before kicking the horse sharply in the ribs. The animal bucked and threw up its head. Tino held his breath, gritting his teeth together. Then the animal launched itself over the paddock fences and rounded the clearing were Ivan was smashing his sword against Berwald's shield.

Tino steered the animal near one of the soldiers who was battling it out with Mathias. Tino barreled the horse into one of the Russian men, picking up his spear. Clutching it up into his hands the blond Finn shouted wildly into the air, welding the pike upward.

"Tino! No!You'll be killed!" Nikolas screamed after his cousin. But it was too late, already Tino's horse was lathered with sweat and the animal roared and was coming closer to Ivan and Berwald. The animal shuttered underneath the Finn's hands but Tino kept pushing the animal until the horses very mouth was close enough to bite at Ivan's nose.

With one swift tug and a shout Tino pulled on the leather cords attached to the bit and the animal stamped his hooves, shaking his head angrily. Ivan snarled and paused in his fighting, giving Berwald enough time to collect his sword and stand up straight.

Tino glared down at Ivan and raised the spear up, but before he could strike the weapon down on Ivan a shrill voice shot through the air.

"STOP!" A female voice cried out loudly. All eyes turned to a magnificent sight.

There, in the wide opening to the village stood a wide eyes Katyusha and a stern eyed Natayla. But it was not there presence that made everyone wither bow or shiver. No, it was the leathery, withered old man with the piked hat atop a huge feathery horse dapple grey in color. The monstrous beast threw its head up and down, jingling the gold decorated reigns glittered with threads of blue and red. But it was the man, that made Tino's breath halt and become icy. Almost instantly the hot and burning weather turned chilly, and a fine layer of frost seemed to scatter all across the village ground, turning the sloshed mud to hard ice. Tino stared in awe.

Ivan quickly threw his sword in front of him and bowed on his knees, his face set in a tight grin.

"Welcome General Winter. I am honored that you would come to visit from the neighboring camp to see me win my fair brides hand, da?" Ivan smirked, his voice sounding like it was dipped and rolled in honey. Tino snarled.

"Ivan. This must end." Said the whiskery old mans voice that stung the insides of Tino's lungs with a thin layer of ice. Tino wrapped his hands around his body, shivering slightly, pike still poised in his hands.

"W-what Uncle?" Ivan's voice shook with bewilderment, his smile all but gone. Ivan carefully retracted his body upward, to his full towering height, Berwald long since had move to stand next to Tino who was still atop the restless horse.

"Ivan. How could you have almost committed such a sin?" Ivan's uncle spoke harshly. The old man slid off of the horse, Natayla holding the huge animals bridle, Katyusha helping the old man to walk over to her stunned brother. Ivan blinked rapidly.

"What sin?" He snapped, his smiled trying to regain composure, trying to re-surface over his hate filled face. He failed miserably.

"This Finn..." General Winter shoved an accusing finger out toward the little Finn. Tino edged the horse back with his feet, his body shaking slightly. Nervous? Who, him?

"The Finn is of the Old Religion. I will not have my nephew's royal blood be tainted by some heathen." He snapped out. Ivan's eyes turned an angry violet, his gaze darting towards Tino.

"Is this true?" Ivan asked, his voice calm and uplifting, but his eyes bleeding a deathly wrath. Tino nodded, his eyes remaining cold and stable, only his shoulders shaking. Berwald wrapped his arm around the Finn's waist, body pressed into the sides of the horse.

Katyusha was the next to speak, her quivering voice sounding out of place in the thick and slowly chilling air.

"Since Uncle does not approve of your bride... You cannot wed Tino." She mumbled, not meeting her brothers eyes. Natayla smirked, her blue gaze like sharp daggers. Ivan snarled like a wild bear.

"I do not care! I will not look like a fool! I will take the Finn's hand or die trying!" Ivan spoke, his voice intense and raw. Berwald move forward, blocking Tino from him.

"Yoo c'me one st'p cl'ser 'n I k'll ya'." Berwald growled out, like the rumbling of a mighty Troll woken up from its long winter slumber. Ivan grinned wildly, like a mad dog.

"THEN SO BE IT!" He screamed, his scarf flying in the air. He charged. Berwald roared himself, like a lion on the brink of insanity. He shoved his shield in front of him and waited for te impact, but it never came. Instead, he heard a soft thudding noise and the next thing he knew, Ivan was down on the ground, his eyes widened.

Tino frowned grimly, his hands still in mid air from where he threw the pike, the metal edge dug into Ivan's scarf, constricting him where he stood trapping him. Ivan looked up with wild violet eyes. Tino sneered with disgust.

"Gifts such as these I would gladly receive if you were a decent man. But I know you are the worst mountain Troll, from the spawn of Necken and the devil!"* Tino spat out.

Ivan breathed wildly as two soldiers heaved him up by the arms, dragging him to the group of horses and troops that accompanied General Winter.

The old man's face slanted and a small, forgiving smile graced his thin lips, his eyes still as cold as lumps of coal left to freeze in the summer months. Tino met his eyes dead on.

"I am sorry for all that my Nephew has done to your village and to you. I will send funds and workers later this spring to help you rebuild your town." He said smoothly, like a freshly iced over pond. Tino nodded, giving a silent thank you with his eyes. The old man nodded curtly before mounting on his horse, Katyusha and Natayla following suit.

Ivan wailed loudly, struggling and cursing in broken English and Russian, till one of the men had to strap him down to his horse, Eduard, Ravias, and Liet snickering and chuckling from the confines of the still intact huts along the paddock.

"We will come back later in the fall to collect our things that we have...misplaced, in the village. Please keep the horses as an apology. I can assure you that you will never see my Nephew again, for as long as he lives." The old man muttered before lightly leading his monstrous horse out through the clearing, the troops and carriages that had amassed themselves outside also following suit.

Once the party was out of sight Tino let a low sigh fly from his lips, sinking his body into the saddle.

All around them people cheered brightly. Children ran and sang, raising their hands to the sky. Women cried and laughed, fluttering their ripped or soiled skirts in the air. The men of the village laughed and laughed, stomping their feet on the ground and cheering, saying that now everything would be alright. Tino smiled. Everything would be alright, because he had won his Troll.

Speaking of which...

Said Troll gently slid Tino from his horses saddle and whirled him in his arms, like a fluttery princess, Tino's ripped skirts opening up like the bloom of a fresh spring flower. Berwald held Tino close and crashed his lips to his with a sweet and passionate kiss. Tino's insides immediately warmed up with a humming of warmth and he immediately wrapped his arms around Berwald's neck, deepening the kiss.

Soon, when not a it of air was left in wither mans lungs, the broke the kiss and stared into each others eyes, their love showing brightly from each others gaze, like the glittering sun on a bright Spring morning.

And then it hit Tino. It was Spring! Spring! The day for the wedding festivals! The day when all the couples got together to celebrate their weddings! Tino whirled his head around and looked at Berwald, the man's face smudged with dirt and rock. Tino smirked before using his delicate thumbs to wipe away all the offending smudges. Once Berwald's face was clean, Tino immediately wriggled out of his to-be-husbands grip and landed with a soft thud on the earth.

Tino turned his gaze to his cousin and Fiance who were also sharing a victorious kiss, Björt wailing and squealing grabbing his chubby hands into Mathias's hair, yelling "Bad-bad!" in a garbled voice. Mathias just chuckled, kissing his lover on the lips once more.

"Nikolas..." Tino smiled. Nikolas broke the kiss with Mathias almost reluctantly to stare at his Cousin.

"Yes?" He asked, his eyes sparkling with much needed warmth. He turned away from Mathias to look at Tino, a questioning look in his gaze. Tino smiled brightly.

"Its Spring..." He muttered, directing his gaze to Mathias, giggling slightly. Nikolas's eyes widened, his face burning up with a realizing blush.

"Now? You want to...to...Now? In the heat of all this destruction?" Nikolas gawked, clutching Björt to his chest. Tino smirked but nodded.

"What better than to heal the destruction than with a happy occasion?" He asked inching closer to Berwald. Berwald's face headed wildly, like a raging wildfire.

"N'w?" He questioned. His tunic was still bloody, and his body was all muddy and aching. Couldn't Tino wait?

Tino pouted.

"You don't want to marry me?"He asked, acting as if he was saddened. Berwalds face immediately grew pink and he stuttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"Nej! Er...no, I wanna' m'rry ya'. Yer m' W'fe aft'r all..." Berwald mumbled under his breath, finding his boots very interesting. Tino smirked before clutching the Trolls hand.

"Then what are we waiting for?" He asked into the warm Spring air. Nikolas sighed while Mathias just bellowed a deep laugh.

"I agree with the Finn! But... first..." Mathias drawled back. He walked over to a patch of wide eyed litter girls who, like the other villagers, were celebrating the villages liberation from the Russians. Mathias knelt down in front of the girls and whispered something into their ears. One of the girls, with braids in her hair clasped her hands together and stared at Nikolas and Tino with a smile. Bother males swallowed harshly. After Mathias was done he held his hands out, waiting for the girls to do something. The girls giggled but nodded, scurrying over the clumps of hay and piled wood to trot into the forest, laughing and whistling.

Mathias strolled back and pushed Nikolas and Tino into a clump of more little girls, whispering something to them in their ears once more. The new batch of village girls nodded and blushed, leading Nikolas and Tino into a rickety hut.

"What did you tell them, Mathias?" Nikolas shouted after the hot headed Dane as he was being let into an intact hut, Tino laughing nervously. Mathias smirked but held his finger over his mouth in a shushing motion. He then turned his back to face Berwald. He motioned for the man to follow him.

Berwald looked back to the hut where Tino and Nikolas had disappeared in, but nodded. Following the tall Dane.

"Wh'at did'ya tell thoose l'ttle g'rls...?" Berwald mumbled to Mathias, his eyes trying to get a glimpse of his little wife.

"Never mind that! I have a plan that's going to make everything spectacular!" Mathias grinned out, clasping Berwalds shoulders with his hands. Berwald rolled his eyes, pushing his cracked glasses back in place over his nose.

"N'was th't?" Berwald grunted dryly.

"It's something that's gonna' get you and me laid tonight, buddy!" Mathias cackled loudly, his blue eyes sparkling. Berwald groaned into the Spring air, his face turning red. He whacked Mathias upside the head, wishing he still had his sword so he could knock some sense into the Dane.

...

ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GOOOOOOOO (so gimmie' lots of Reviews!)

Authors Notes:

-""Would your brother still wish to marry Tino if he knew he wasn't of the new religion?""*- The "New Religion" pertains to Christianity, or the worship of one God. Before the advancement of Christianity, Scandinavia was a heavily Pagan area. Sorry to go all religious ape-shit on y'all, but its in the Ballad ^^""" I DO NOT MEAN TO OFFEND ANYONEEEEE *cries in corner with the Dolphins*

-""I...I don't know. I don't think he could marry someone of the old religion... Our General Winter would not hear of it...""*- General Winter! Yeahhhh! That scary old dude that makes Ivan battle 'n shit! Also, if one was to marry, in the olden days they would most likely have to be the same religion, especially in this case with Ivan being a Knight and of royal blood.

-"The man, who was surprisingly wearing a pretty little green hangerock, small flaxen stitches decorating its front, shoved a small basket in Berwalds bearish hands.*-This piece of clothing was an outer apron that Viking women wore so that their tunic would not get dirty; it also had various pockets to hold domestic tools. Of course Feliks would wear one!

-""We thought your Tino might like them. They are licorice root, fresh from the forest, picked just this morning. They were a wedding gift for Tino when he was to be married to...well... We stole them from the kitchen and brought them to you.""*- Because what Finnish person can't resist Salmiakki? If you don't know what that is... Good for you!

-"Inside the soft confines of the wrapping, was a small white little hat that looked like a cute little beret. It was soft to the touch and as white as snow on a Yule morning.*"- "Yule" Is the Pagan version of Christmas celebrate by Norse Pagans and Celtic Pagans. Those are the only two that I can safely say celebrate it. ^^"

-""Sir Väinämöinen, Sir Väinämöinen won`t you marry me? For all that I`ll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no, da? Will you do so or no?""*- In the Ballad, the Troll addresses "Sir Mannelig" by "Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won`t you marry me? For all that I`ll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no. Will you do so or no?"

-"""To you I will give the twelve fine mills that stand between Tillö and Ternö. The mill stones are made of the reddest brass and the wheels are silver-laden.""*-"Tillö and Ternö" are places in Sweden.

-"The blade glinted a dangerous silver, as if it had been cut from Sköll's jaw itself.*"- 'Sköll' is one of the wolves in Norse mythology that chases the horses Árvakr and Alsviðr who drag the chariot of the sun each morning.

-"Ta' yoo I g've a n'ckl'ce a' silver n' le'ther. M'de in the symbol of tha' karhun, he who wears it is k'ng a' tha' f'r'st."*-"Karhun" translates to "King of the forest" in Finnish, because there was a superstition that says if you were to say the word "bear" out loud then one would appear. So The Finnish people started to give the bears nicknames like the one Berwald used.

-"Herr Väinämöinen, Herr Väinämöinen won`t ya' m'rry me? For all th't I`ll gl'dly g've yoo. Yoo may answ'r only yes 'r no. W'll ya do so or no?"*- "Herr" means "Sir" in old Swedish, and it is how the Troll addresses the Squire who she wishes to marry.

-""Gifts such as these I would gladly receive if you were a decent man. But I know you are the worst mountain Troll, from the spawn of Necken and the devil!""* - I tweaked the original lyrics a bit, but basically this is what it amounts to. This is the Squires response to the Troll asking him to marry her. "Necken" is basically the Norse devil when Christianity rooted itself in the culture.


	11. The Troll and the Squire

** *Cries* Well, here you go guys! The last chapter of "Waiting for Spring"! Thank you so much to all who read, reviewed, and favorited this story, it makes me so happy! Thank you to **yotzie** and **MalinChan** for being my awesome Swedish/Finnish translators, and to all of you who constantly reviewed! Once again, this story is based off of an Old Swedish Ballad titled "Herr Mannelig " look up the song version on youtube by either "Garmarna" or "In Extermo" for a wicked experience! I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR HERR MANNELIG! REVIEW AND THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH I LOVE YOU~~~**

...

After the petite little girls had clutched Nikolas's and Tino's hands and led them both into the small grass-roofed hut, each boy sat down on a low set cot with scattered woolen blankets strewn on top. The little girls giggled once more before rummaging around with their chubby little hands, picking up clay pots and weaved baskets filled to the brim with scraps of cloth and red saffron dyed ribbons. One of the girls, the one with the bright golden braids skipped over to Tino and Nikolas, a grin pasted on her freckled face.

She took off Nikolas's coat and ran her fingers over the coarse wool of his tunic, sucking on the inside of her cheek, as if she was concentrating on something. Nikolas simply stared with his neutral blank expression, waiting for the girl to say something, anything.

Tino was not that patient.

"Um...Hello..." He mumbled to the girl in a sheepish voice. The girl immediately turned her crystal blue gaze from Nikolas to Tino. Tino smiled brightly.

"What did that man tell you?" He asked, trying to prod information from her. The girl just giggled and ran her small fingers through Nikolas's hair, her eyes bright and shiny. She came to the small clip in his hair and marveled at the marksmanship of the small accessory, before she turned to Tino.

"'Gør dem temmelig.'"* Was all the girl said before lazily plucking at Nikolas's hair, the silky strands sliding through her fingers. The Norwegians eyes widened with surprise.

"Damn..." He mumbled underneath his breath dryly. Tino raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. The other little girl had sat herself next to Tino and was now ruffling his hair, placing his white beret on his lap. She then began tying light blue and white ribbons onto his small neck loosely. In and out her delicate fingers weaved, doing her best to be gentle. Tino bit his lip.

"What did she say?" He asked, his eyes lingering on the girls plump hands as she focused on tying a perfect knot, letting the leather corded necklace show against his collar bone in a smooth expanse of dull color. She looked at the bear pendant and her eyes widened, her little lips in a plump smile that was ever so sweet. Fingering the small pendant she giggled before combing through more ribbons, all brightly dyed.

"If I can remember my Danish correctly, Mathias told them to make us 'pretty'." He grumbled out. The two girls giggled and nodded, muttering little bits and pieces of Danish themselves. Tino smiled. He knew the village was heavily populated by an innumerable amount of different Scandinavian races, all coexisting together. It was nice, one never got lonely when they lived with people from almost every northern country, they were one big family. The Russian's invasion undoubtedly caused much pain and strife in the village, but they would rebuild. They always had. The villagers were strong and willful, and soon, hopefully, things would go back to being joyful and peaceful.

"Figures the idiot would pull something like this..." Nikolas murmured. Tino smiled uneasily and fidgeted in his seat, his legs still bare and muddy, the dirt flaking on his scuffed up knees.

"It will be fine, I'm sure we're in capable hands, right girls?" Tino asked lightly, looking to the blond and brunette. The two girls nodded vigorously, a smile slipped onto their faces and they both repeated "Ja!" Nikolas rolled his eyes, his hands on his knees. Soon one of the girls took Björt from Nikolas and wrapped the child in a pretty little flaxen chemise, the corners of the over sized tunic dyed a bright blue and red. The little boy giggled and grabbed at the flowers that were placed in the girls hair, making her look like a fairy. Tino smiled with delight.

After a few minutes of the girls combing through the knots in both the boys hair, getting rid of leaves and twigs, a few more excited childre came bursting in though the small oaken door leading an adults hand. The three girls, just as nimble and tiny as the other two, had small flowers peeking up from their stringy locks, goofy smiles on their pink lips.

They were all like dainty and colorful little woodland nymphs and fairies, reminding Tino of the veden väki back home.* Each feathery little child carried a basket full of fresh flowers and a cloth wrapping of something thick and billowy. But it was the male person that was the most...unusual presence.

"Like, hi! I'm here to get you guys all pretty in pink for your wedding!" The Polish accented male smiled brightly at Nikolas and Tino. Both males looked to each other before they gave uncertain looks.

"Like, I'm Feliks, the one that gave you the cute puppy!" He tried again, dragging a big wooden basin next to the two males. Tino blinked slowly before realizing what the man had just said. Instantly a big joyful smile painted his lips and the Finn warmed up to the stranger.

Tino laughed impishly. "Ah, yes, that's right, thank you so much! Shes really a cute little dog." He muttered, shaking the mans hands. The shoulder length hair of the man was golden and gleaming in the small cracks from the chipping mortar in huts walls. Tino stared into those bright and friendly emerald eyes and felt the eyes themselves smirking up at him. It made him smirk himself.

"So, like, I'm gonna' need you two to sick your feet in this tub, please!" The man breathed out, hiking his skirts up...skirts? Skirts? Tino took an uneasy glance to Nikolas, who was beyond functional from the look on his bewildered face.

The man was indeed wearing a dress, a light green flaxen one that made his eyes show even more brilliant against his pale and snow-like face. Little stitches of a faded pink decorated the neckline of the dress, and a small pink quartz necklace dangled from his feminine neck. This man looked utterly harmless, like a timid little child's pony. Tino, calming down a bit form the mans display of clothing, did what he was told, slipping his sore and scratched feet into the ceder lined bucket, smelling the pine sap that had longed since dried against the wood to seal in the cracks.

The Polish man nodded before heaving up a bucket of steaming water. One of the little girls, the one that had spoke Danish, lightly nudged Nikolas's shoulder. The Norwegian shifted his eyes to the girl, a board look on his face The girl pouted before bending down and smacking his feet into the wooden trough. Tino giggled while Nikolas grumbled, the other little girls covering their mouth from laughter.

Then the Polish man bent down on his knee, his skirts hiked up with a bit of sinewy twine. Tino and Nikolas watched with mild curiosity as the man, a smile on his lips, took a clay jar from the wall and dipped it into one of the many buckets of warmed spring water. He held up the jug and lightly sprinkled the water in the basin and over the two men's feet. Tino sighed into the sour smelling air in the hut. The warm water felt so wonderful on his poor tired feet. The water stung a little bit on his blisters and the mild cuts he received on the horse, but other than that it was perfect, heavenly, and oh-so-lovely.

Tino turned his head to see that Nikolas too looked to be enjoying this special treat, his weight leaning on his elbows, his legs stretched out with ease. The tension between the Norwegian's eyes seemed to relax a bit, a small, hardly noticeable smile wedged onto his lips.

Soon, once all the water was placed in the bin, Feliks collected a small piece of squared cloth. He held it out to one of the girls, and she nodded and scurried around the hut, looking for something. A few other girls had their fists full of freshly picked wild flowers that had not been destroyed by the fire. Each little handful bent over the water and scatted the flowers into the tub, making the water smell like fresh spring water after a cleansing rain.

The little girl, a handkerchief wedged on top of her hair, handed a small flask to Feliks, the metallic color dancing off of the small bottle. Feliks smiled and set the girl to work over one of the bundles of clothes. In an instant, The brunette and the girl with hay colored braids had heaved off Nikolas's coat and undid the backings of Tino's dress. Tino let out a squeak that made the small girls giggle.

"No peeking!" Feliks warned playfully to the little girls, wagging his finger back and forth. They all nodded diligently, cheeky smiles on their pinkish faces. They all turned around and exited the hut for a brief moment, allowing Tino and Nikolas to disrobe, giggling as they left.

After a quick wash of their backs and legs, aided by Feliks, both men felt cleaner and better than ever before.* Splashed with cold water the boys legs numbed theirs worries if only for a second. The dust and grime of today was nice to get off their backs, especially the feeling of Ivan's caresses on Tino's clothed body. The Finn let out a low shudder of disgust at remembering the Russian's touch. But now that was over and done with. General Winter had given his word that that would be the last Tino ever saw of the Russian knight. That thought alone helped to calm down Tino's stomach, yet something else set it stirring again.

Tino was to be married. Married to a Troll. He let out a sharp intake of breath, his hands gripping to the sides of the tub. Nikolas, shuffling a new bright blue tunic over his arms and torso looked to his now pale and nauseous looking companion.

"Tino? Tino, are you alright?" The Norwegian asked, placing his hands delicately on the Finnish mans shoulders. Tino laughed nervously, feeling the butterflies in his stomach hatch into a multitude of feathery light caresses to his gut. He quickly slunk down to the bed and took a deep breath, in through his nose out through his mouth. He shut his eyes tight.

"Ni-Nikolas...I'm going to be married..." He mumbled out, his eyes watering with either joy or fear, he couldn't decided. Nikolas sighed lightly and sat himself closer to Tino on the bed, Feliks busying himself with the metal flask in his petite hands, trying not to impose.

"Tino, I know, I'm scared too. I'm marrying a stupid Dane, how do you think that makes me feel?" Nikolas asked, his voice doing its best to sound feathery and joking. Tino sniffled and wiped his nose. He braved a small smile and looked up into Nikolas's opaque eyes.

"I guess marrying a Troll won't be so bad as everyone says..." Tino mumbled, his face regaining its peaceful luster. Nikolas craned his head back in confusion, his eyes clouding like a humming storm, soaring and climbing against the sky. He touched Tino's shoulders, making the Finn face him.

"Tino...You know Berwald isn't really a Troll, right?" Nikolas asked, his voice doubtful and a bit skeptical. Tino tilted his head to the side, his eyes peaked and interested, mouth slightly parted.

"What do you mean?" He whispered. It was Feliks turn to break the silence with a girlish giggle.

"Like, awww, that's so cute! The little Finn actually thinks Berwald is a Troll!" He chuckled lightly, opening the small flask and circling it around with his wrist, letting the syrupy clear liquid fall down into one of the buckets of water. Feliks took another scrap of cloth and dipped it into the pale of water that was now beginning to smell of some exotic flower. Tino watched the water hungrily seep up the cloth.

"What do you mean? He is a Troll! He lifted up that Ash tree the first time we met, his sword is huge, he glares like a beast, and he is as strong as any creature I've ever known!" Tino cried out. Nikolas laughed low in his throat, shuffling a new pair of beige trousers on his legs, Tino doing the same, tying the pants to his waist with a bit of leather and buckle.

"Did it ever occur to you that he's just like, really buff n' junk?" Feliks asked, patting the cloth on his delicate wrists.

Tino frowned. Berwald wasn't a Troll? But...Tino was so sure! Well, there were some disproving facts about the Swede. He didn't have any long donkey-ish ears, and he certainly didn't turn to stone in the sunlight, nor did he have a tail...* Well, as far as Tino could tell. The little Finn blushed madly. If what Nikolas had said was true...Then Tino had made a huge mistake! Oh how Berwald must be so angry and frustrated with him! Tino bit his bottom lip and wriggled his shaking hands into his newly fitted tunic, the flaxen fabric rubbing harshly against his skin.

"Its nothing to like, get so worked up about! So what if you're a little dense, it's nothing to be ashamed about! I'm sure like, Berwald will understand!" Feliks waved his hands around, trying to calm the little Finn down. Tino, his eyes down cast, swallowed thickly.

"You really think he doesn't hate me?" Tino whispered out, his breath as weak as the sun during the harsh winter months. Nikolas gave a rare sympathetic smile, hugging the Finn round the shoulders.

"Tino, the man offered to be your husband, I'm pretty sure he doesn't hate you..." Nikolas murmured, wiping a few stray wisps of hair from the smaller males face. Tino rubbed the heel of his hand into his shoulder, giving himself and excuse to hold himself up. Nikolas was right. Berwald it seemed had already forgiven the little Finn for his error, being such a sweet and loveable man he hadn't even brought it up. Tino furrowed his brow and sighed heavily. Well, no use weighing on the past, he would just have to fix his mistake.

A few seconds passed in silence before the soft patter of footsteps could be heard entering the low ceiling hut. The little girls from before slowly entered the straw thatched shelter, noticing that something had upset the young Finn. One of the girls, the brunette, crawled up to the cot, holding the corners of her skirt like a billowy apron. She sat on her legs and nudged her skirts forward, something fragile and pretty embedded in the rough swaths of her skirts. Tino looked up at the girl and saw that her eyes were sparkling. She rummaged her hands through her apron like skirts and pulled out two grass woven crowns, one with ringlets of dark blue flowers with white flakes of bergfrue cascading in between the strands of twisted grass.* The other crown was of the same weaved grass, but with lily-of-the-valley peeking up between the strands of wild meadow grass, dots of morning glories also accenting the crown.*

The little girl shifted on the uncomfortable cot before reaching up and placing the crown of small bell-shaped lilies onto Tino's head, the other crown delicately adjusted onto Nikolas's pale hair. The little girl stepped back and giggled with delight. The other girls began to crowd around now, all of them decorating the two stunned and blushing boys.

Chubby hands here and there began to weave beautiful child-like works of art such as daisy chains, clay beads, and brightly dyed ribbons into the boys short locks, tying, pinning, weaving, till the little girls, proud of their work, stood back in awe.

Feliks giggled before handing a small dish of water to them, the bone colored clay bowl acting as a small mirror for their stunning reflections. Tino and Nikolas both peered into the soft metallic like surface of the water, the curiosity of their appearances getting the better of them.

Tino's eyes met with a beautiful and a bit frighting sight. Someone, a woman perhaps, was looking at him, her violet eyes wide, pink lips plump like a summer plum, and her hair adorned with the soft and joyful colors of bright Spring flowers. The woman blinked when Tino blinked, opened and closed her mouth when Tino did, and even made a small shriek when Tino shrieked.

"Tha-thats me!" Tino stated into the cramped and now sweet smelling air of the small house. He looked down at his startled reflection and back to Feliks, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Pretty, don't you think? I'm sure your husbands will love it too." He giggled, dipping the washcloth into the heavily scented pale once more. He dabbed a healthy helping onto his wrist and shoved his pale hand towards the Finn, inviting the Finn to take a whiff.

Tino sniffed his wrist and smiled. The mixture smelled like the rolling green hills of Finland after the thunderstorms are split open by Thors hammer and the wind and rain scatter across the meadow grass, leaving all the flowers and sweet alfalfa hay drenched in cleansing rain.* Tino sighed happily. It smelled like home.

Feliks took a deeper smell of the scent on his wrist before smiling brightly, like a freshly waxed candle just being lit for the first time. "Like, its done!" He squealed.

Tino and Nikolas looked at the squatting man who was grinning wildly, his eyes sparkling. Feliks crawled up to the two Nordics and held out the slightly dripping cloth close to Nikolas's nose. The stony eyed Norwegian took a whiff and immediately a small smile graced his lips. He seemed to agree with the scent as well.

"That smells wonderful! What is it?" Tino finally asked, shuffling a light blue over tunic top onto his head, tying the folds of the tunic skirt with a white sash that was laying next to the cot. Feliks, eyes smug and mouth curled into a grin, lightly pressed the cloth to Tino's neck, right below his ears. Tino squeaked as the hot liquid was gingerly pressed to his flesh, making his ears tint a bright red.

"Its like, an old Polish recipe for perfume making. Its basically rain water, a bit of musk, and some crushed flower buds." The man mumbled, pressing Nikolas's own share into the Norwegian's skin. The man winced at the temperature but allowed the perfume to sink into his skin. Feliks smiled before wiping both their necks down with a dry cloth before standing up and dusting the hay and dirt from his skirts. He placed his hands on his hips before grinning to the two brides-to-be.

"Like, ready?" he asked, a goofy smile set onto his pink lips. Nikolas and Tino both looked to each other, a scared yet anxiously giddy look on each boys pale face. They took a deep breath and held each others hands, giving it a tight squeeze. Nodding silently together, they allowed Feliks to open the door for them, the little pixie-like-girls following after them, throwing wild heather and daisy petals from their bundled skirts, their smiles bright and clumsy, feet jumping up and down. Nikolas balanced Björt on his hip, the little boy humming and laughing, playing with his ribbon crown atop his feather like hair. Tino and Nikolas smiled. It was time.

The first thing the boys saw when they entered the square, was an array of colors. It seemed that in the little time the brides spent in the hut, the entire village had transformed. Fresh cut alfalfa hay was littered all across the burned or damaged huts, enveloping them in a promising green and a flurry of color. Five startlingly beautifully decorated Icelandic ponies were tied next to a hitching post, their coats gleaming in the now shining sun, ribbons braided into their manes and tails. Each one had flowers and colorful swashes of cloth tied onto the strands of bristly forelock hair, ropes of greenery weaved into the saddle blankets for good luck and fortune. One of the ponies was hitched up to a low cart, hay on the wooden planks to softened the floor for the piles of wedding gifts that already seemed to burden the small wagon.

Flowers, in bloom and dried from summers last days, were all bright and fragrant, dangling from tree boughs, heaved into bouquets, or just weaved into bright and colorful grass ropes, strung and nestled against the stout longhouses and barns. Flowers were everywhere, in women's hair and scattered all across the floor in a welcoming daze.

Along the edge of the clearing against the low set wooden planks of the animal fencing stood a huge ash tree, its limbs bowing low to the earth, as if its heavy laden arms were greeting the two males with joy and humbleness. Scrawled on the tree trunk with chalky white paint was a spiraling drawing of the Goddess Freyja, seeming to smile at them and embrace them.* Tino sighed, as breathless as ever.

A melody of birds sang, from the simple cluck of the barnyard hens picking at the thawed off earth, to the exotic and triumphant songs of the petite crested Lark. Huge thick ribbons had been sprawled all across the Ash trees bows, the ribbons of sapphire blue, ember red, verdant green, and snow white all jostling in a maddened dance betwixt the invisible fingers of the wind. Tino clutched Nikolas hands tighter, taking it all in, the sight of the colorful ribbons and wild flowers, the smells of the baking bread dappled with raw honey, and the noise from the people chattering and the birds singing. Well, it was just too much!

Tino brought his hands to his face and began to fan himself desperately, trying to get enough cool air to his flushed cheeks. But ultimately it was the sounds of the cheering people that brought Tino to immediate attention.

He whirled his head around to glance back to the mighty ash tree trunk to see what all the cheering had been about. All of the sudden his violet eyes blinked not once, but twice.

Now standing near the ash tree stood the most handsome man Tino had ever laid eyes on. Berwald. Clad in a decorative navy blue tunic edged with a dull yellow stood the man of Tino's heart and affections. Berwald's hair had been washed, still a bit wet in sharp tuffs, his face had been scrubbed, leaving his high cheek bones clean and pale, his eyes still as bright and glaring as ever. But looking back into those eyes they seemed to soften upon seeing the little Finn. Tino's cheeks began to burn with a vengeful red and he was forced to look down at the floor, not trusting his heart to stop beating so furiously.

Berwald sighed happily. His wife was as cute as ever, dressed in a light blue tunic that draped over his body almost like a dress, wildflowers sewn into his hair, ribbons tied into delicate knots on his pale and slender neck. Berwald felt his heart speed up with the ferocity of a dozen birds at flight.

He looked down at his own clothing, the tunic he had borrowed from Mathias was a bit too small for him, and reeked of the stupid Dane, but he didn't complain much. He also didn't complain when a flurry of little girls stormed up to him and pinned a bright white and yellow daisy to his woolen tunic, the dangling of blue and yellow ribbon trailing for behind the petals of the flower. Berwald didn't mind it at all, in fact he was ecstatic, willing to keep his face neutral, blank. But in an instant his gaze had snapped, for when Tino walked out from that hut and stared right at him, the inklings of a blush on his cute little face, Berwald lost it. His happiness skyrocketed and blasted into the sky, a sweet and soft smile pressing onto his lips. He was happy, as happy as he'd ever been in a long time, and it was all thanks to Tino.

It was Tino that made Berwald's heart beat like a freshly tuned drum, it was Tino that made Berwald's chest tight, and it was Tino that made Berwald's eyes, glaring and intimidating, soften like the warm ocean after a horrific storm, calm and soothing.

Tino, feeling Nikolas nudge him forward, felt the butterflies in his stomach explode into a flurry of sparks, all scrambling and pushing against his stomach and rib cage in an attempt to take flight. The little Finn feared he was going to be sick! It was only when Nikolas held his hand in his once more that Tino began to calm down and slowly and timidly walk with the Norwegian to the two proudly standing males.

Already a huge swarm of villagers had conjugated in a sweltering mass along the little walk way that led to the ash tree. People were waving, smiling, speaking bits and pieces of their own language as their eyes watched and followed with watered brightness the timid steps of Nikolas and Tino. A few of the little girls from before were trailing behind Tino and Nikolas, like little fluttering dogs at their heels, grabbing fist fulls of flower blossoms and petals and showering them through the air like little flower girls. Even the tiny white dog was running and barking happily alongside her new master, a cute red bow tied to her neck.

Flowers and hay had been scattered along the muddied ground, making it easier for Tino to walk on with his newly acquired boots that Feliks had been kind enough to lend him. Tino sighed with anxiousness before feeling his heart quiver with determination and fire as each step brought him closer to his destination, closer to Berwald's arms. Already the little Finn could feel the warmth of the Swedish mans. Tino felt his chest grow tight and his lungs grow heavy with warm air. Then come tonight...In the safety of the Finn's long house, well, they would consummate their love for one another, wouldn't they? Tino blushed furiously at the thought, already fidgeting with his hands, squeezing Nikolas's soft fingers with his own.

Nikolas sighed into the claustrophobic and sweet smelling air. He turned and saw Feliks, who was motioning to take the little boy in his hands, a sweet smile on his face. Nikolas smiled back and handed him the giggling little Icelander, the child looking around a bit timidly, clutching his stuffed Puffin toy, a smile on his face none the less. Nikolas beamed. He looked forward and saw his soon-to-be-husband grinning at him, a twinkle in his sky blue eyes. Nikolas sighed and smiled softly back. Yes he loved the Dane, there was no denying it. No matter how stupid, selfish, troublesome, annoying, idiotic, egotistical, rampaging, lunatic... Oh well, all that matters was that he loved the moron, right? Nikolas smiled. Right.

Once Tino and Nikolas finally made it to the great opening of the clearing, tall meadow grass and yellow and white yarrow decorating the trunk of the magnificent tree, Tino and Nikolas both moved slowly towards their partners, both males nerves on end.

Berwald was the most handsomest thing Tino had ever seen, and when the giant mans soft yet calloused hands reached out to hold Tino's to his chest, well, the Finn just about lost it. His face heated up like a summer lit torch and his whole body began to shake and shiver. Tino, staring through perfect blonde lashes timidly looked up to Berwald and saw that the man was just as nervous, if not more. The Swede's face was a powdery red and his eyes were a tangible soft sea green that melted Tino's drumming heart.

Berwald lightly leaned in to Tino, brushing his lips against his ear, his nose touching against the Finn's cheeks with a warm shiver. Tino blinked madly and squeaked into the Spring air, feeling the butterflies erupt once again.

"Ya look be'ut'ful..." Berwald mumbled, his gentle and warm lips ghosted over Tino's red tipped ears. The Finn smiled softly before squeezing his hand in Berwalds, turning his head to give the Swede a light kiss on the cheek, to which Berwald grunted in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his head. Tino's lips drew into a loving smile that was only meant for his husband.

Soon, hesitantly, Tino's heart began to calm down enough so that Tino could actually hold Berwald's hand without squeezing the life out of it, and just in time too, because soon a woman began to walk towards them to stand near the tree, a wooden box tucked underneath one hand, a jug in the other. The woman greeted the four with a tender smile, all around them the villagers already grinning and humming with happiness, looking forward to the joyful occasion that the wedding would bring.

The two little girls from before timidly walked up to Tino and Nikolas, and, looking sheepish, both handed them a small bouquet of wild flowers freshly cut and tied with red saffron ribbon. Both males said thank you and kissed the little girls atop their heads, leaving them fit with giggles.

Then it was time of the wedding to begin. With bated breath, Nikolas and Tino, Mathias and Berwald, all stood proud and tall, their hands intertwined into their partners fingers. The woman, dressed in a simple olive woolen dress smiled, her brown chocolate colored hair waiving in the wind, a beautiful flower seeming to be pinned in her hair. She grinned and held out her hands for Tino and Nikolas to take.

"Hello. My name is Elizabeta, you must be Tino and Nikolas?" She said, her voice as soft and sweet as her face. Both boys nodded, a nervous smile on their lips, even Nikolas's eyes had opened up to shine a magnificent blue.

"You two must be Berwald and Mathias?" She asked, moving her eyes over to the two taller men. Both of them nodded, taking their partners free hand into their own. Elizabeta smiled.

"Well then, shall we begin?" She asked. All four of them nodded, sheepish and loving gazes weaved onto their faces like a chain of heather. Elizabeta let go of Tino and Nikolas's hands and looked the smaller males straight in the eye, her smile never faltering.

_Early one morning before the sun did rise..._

"Sirs, please take out your husbands swords..." Elizabeta asked, her green eyes sparkling to Nikolas and Tino.

_...And the birds sang their sweet song..._

Berwald and Mathias moved their hands to their sides as their brides fluttered their fingers over the males sword sheaths before pulling out their partners swords and holding them upward. Elizabeta then spoke, her voice ringing like a bell in the verdant opening.

_The mountain Troll proposed to the fair Squire..._

"Hand your husband's swords to them, hilt first and say these words...'With this sword, will you promise to protect me, through life and limb, danger and destruction, always?' Husbands answer as you will..."*

_He had a true and loving tongue..._

Tino took a deep breath, and with Nikolas they both repeated what the woman had said, waiting with a bit of anxiousness as to what their soon-to-be-husbands would answer with.

_Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won't you marry me? _

Mathias grinned and took the sword, raising it high he looked into Nikolas's eyes and his grin grew wild and fierce with love. "I will, for all my life my bride." He said and knelt down before Nikolas, placing something small on the hilt of the sword, still bending down he waited.

_For all that I'll gladly give you... _

Next it was Berwald's turn. The little Finn handed the giant his sword, hilt first and waited, his lips quivering, breath coming out in small pants. Berwald's lips twitched up into a smile and he grabbed his wife's hands with a gentle touch, running his thumb over Tino's delicate fingers. Tino's heart sped up wildly, like a forest fire, but he begged his eyes to look upwards, to meet those sea green orbs that stunned him in his place. Berwald bent down and, still holding Tino's hand, kissed it lightly before mumbling out the words Tino had been dying to hear. "I l've ya w'th all m' heart... I'll do anyth'n' ta' pr'tect ya, m'w'fe..." He mumbled into Tino's warm hands.

_You may answer only yes or no..._

Tino felt a small joyful tear graced his cheeks. He squeezed Berwald's hands tight, till both their knuckles were white, but neither of them cared. All that mattered was the moment, the time in space were they just looked into their eyes and felt the love glow between them. It was magical.

_Will you do so or no...?_

Elizabeta smiled and motioned the men up. She smiled at the tall men once more before instructing them to stand before their soon-to-be-wives. Each man did and held out the hilt of the sword to their partner. Elizabeta's voice rang once more through the whispers and grins of the villagers. "Brides, do you wish to marry the man standing before you? If so, take the ring offered, may the Goddess Freyja grant you a long and health marriage." She said happily. Tino and Nikolas, with shaking fingers both slipped their hands along the hilt of the sword to retrieve the wedding bands of smelted silver, a small moon white quartz embedded in each ring. Slipping the cool metal onto their ring fingers, they marveled at the way the simple yet sacred stone glowed.* Both males looked into the eyes of their love and whispered with weak and sweet voices that they whole heartily agreed to marry the man before them. "Yes, I love him." Tino said once again with a sheepish smile. Berwald's glaring face was swept up with joy.

_Gifts such as these I will gladly receive if you are a great man..._

Elizabeta pressed her wooden box to her hip, opening it up with expert ease. She pulled out eighteen long strips of ribbon, each a different color, dyed bright with plant pigment and minerals. The brunette woman slowly took each partners hands and placed them on each others swords, Nikolas and Mathias on theirs, Tino on Berwald on their own. Once their hands were clasped firmly together, Elizabeta wrapped nine ribbons around their hands each, making braids and patterns, weaving them in an out to create a rainbow of colors that engulfed their shaking fingers. Once it was complete she raised her hands and in a joyful voice spoke loud against the branches of the ash tree.

_I know you are a mountain Troll, from the spawn of Ymir and the frost...*_

"By the power of the Gods..." Elizabeta took a bowl of water and a hlaut-teinn from her box and lightly dipped the branch in the water, then, flicking it over the two couples, she regained her voice with a joyful clarity. "I now pronounce you, husband and wife!"* She cried out happily. The two younger boys looked into their now husbands eyes and grinned.

_The mountain troll stood by his bride..._

Mathias and Berwald wrapped their arms around their wives waists and heaved them up, up, up, almost to the heavens before lingering their eyes on the beauty of their brides before them. With swift shouts and cheers and the tossing of flowers and the ringing of bells, Tino smiled down at his husband. Husband. How that word made his toes curl and his eyes sparkle and his lips caress into a loving smile. He did love Berwald, he absolutely did. More than anything in the world. Nothing could change that.

_His heart wailed and shrieked so loudly..._

Berwald and Mathias stood up and let Elizabeta comb her fingers through their bound hands, untying the strands with great care and diligence. Once the ribbons were free from their knots and tangles, Elizabeta threw them into the air, as well as Tino and Nikolas throwing their bundles of flowers into the sky, watching as little girls and even some boys dove for them, laughing and smiling as their hands picked at the pretty spray of flowers and colored strands.

_I have that handsome squire..._

Both males looked into each others eyes and smiled sweetly, feeling the love they had for one another seep and settle into their hearts in a warm humming feeling that sent their smiles ablaze and their hearts filled to the brim with this wonderful emotion called love. Then, with no uncertainty, no anxiousness, no uneasiness, they crashed their lips together in a long and heated kiss, tasting each other and feeling both of their hands cling into each others shoulders.

_From my torment I will be free..._

Something warm and soft slid between Tino's pink lips, and within a moment the young Finn was moaning into the velvety and sweet mouth of the Swedish giant. Berwald and Tino's tongues battled for a mere moment before Berwald decidedly took control and ran his more dominate tongue against the Finn's claiming and ravaging what he had wanted for a long time. With the screaming of breath, the shiver of skin that baked in the warm sun, and the sweet smell of blissful flower petals they reluctantly broke the kiss for some much needed air. Their lungs were burning and gasping for oxygen by the time their eyes met again, a love so pure and shimmering that it seemed to drip from their eyes like Freyja's tears.*

_Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won't you marry me...?_

Then, within a flurry of smiles and colors, Tino and Nikolas were both heaved up bridal style into the strong arms of their husbands, their dyed tunics fluttering in the wind, the sounds of the birds sweet songs trailing behind them. Tino clung to Berwald's neck tightly as the giant of a man carried him over to the patiently waiting ponies. Berwald set Tino down on a pretty docile little tan pony that nudged its leathery muzzle into Berwald's shoulder. Berwald patted the horse on its neck and untied the flaxen reigns and placed them over the stout ponies neck. He squeezed them in Tino's hands before walking over to his own horse and mounting it with ease. The animal gave a small buck before neighing loudly, the rest of the horses following suit, restless and aching to run.

_For all that I`ll gladly give you..._

Tino clutched the reigns in his hands before he felt something tug at the edge of his trousers. Looking down he saw the bright white little puppy nipping and barking at his heels, running in and out from the ponies legs. Tino chuckled and leaned down from the ponies short height to scoop up the puppy in his arms. The dog barked happily and snuggled into the Finn's lap.

_You may answer only yes or no..._

Once they were all settled into the saddle they held their reigns high, all smiling, the sounds of the villagers clapping and wishing them luck, they all clicked their tongues and dug their heels lightly into their mounts sides. The horses and ponies, laden with crisp flowers and jingling bells raised up on their hind legs and pawed at the spring air, the five Scandinavians whooping with joy. Mathias raised one of his hands and shouted into the boiling air a cry of laughter, Berwald followed suit, his deep voice shaking the very leaves from the trees, Nikolas and Tino cried out with joy, their horses picking up their feet and galloping full speed.

_Will you do so or no...?_

Nikolas held tightly to Björt and the lead reigns to the cart pony, his smile never leaving his face. Tino beamed in the sweet smelling air, feeling the wind caress his face and body, feeling the surging power of the horses strife and gallop, reveling in the new feeling of being a bride, a wife. He clutched the wildly barking dog closer to his chest and grinned with jubilation.

Tino looked to Berwald whose eyes were still strict and taunt, but the smile on his lips washed it away. He nudged his cantering horse closer to Tino's and did his best to reach over to kiss the Finn without falling from the spirited animal. Tino giggled and tightened the reigns, bringing the horse to a break neck speed, Berwald's horse following suit. Soon the two husbands and brides had gone their separate ways, Mathias, Nikolas, and Björt to their own long house up north near the hills, and Tino and Berwald to their little cabin hidden near the fir trees and rocks.

After slowing the horses down to a sluggish walk, Berwald's hands sheepishly clutched Tino's, rubbing his thumbs against Tino's thin and warm fingers. Tino smiled happily, his eyes hiding behind his shadow of eyelashes. It was only once they rounded the front of the cabin that they reluctantly slid their fingers from each others hands and dismounted the sweaty animals. Tino, skipping and giggling, grabbed his husbands arm and, without any awkwardness kissed him deeply and meaningfully. Berwald smiled against the kiss and wrapped his arms around the Finn tightly.

After much needed air, the kiss was ended with a small bit of laughter and the lazily sensation of breath returning to starved lungs. Tino and Berwald led their tired horses to the small paddock that flanked the cabin before giving the horses a quick rub down and a handful of hay. The little puppy scampered happily into the barn for a much needed nap, her little ears drooping over her cute little face.

As soon as Tino shut and latched up the paddock gate he felt strong and cuddly bearish arms lift him up and hold him bridal style in the air. Tino made a small squeak of shock before he was pressed to the solid and warm chest of his husband. Husband. How that word sent wonderful shivers and delightful feelings through his slender body. He loved Berwald, he really did. He loved him even when he thought he was a Troll, and even now that he is a man. Tino could not be happier, could not be more joyful or content. He has his Spring husband now, and nothing could ever take that away from him.

Berwald, smiling lightly to his bride, strode over to the slightly ajar door frame that has been crushed by Ivan's persistence. Tino, seeing the scowl shift over Berwald's face, quickly nudged his lips over to his husbands cheek and kissed it gently, wrapping his arms tighter against the strong Troll-like body. Berwald, rigid shoulders relaxing, fitted a true smile on his lips before standing before the threshold of the house.

Both males took a deep breath before looking into each others eyes. Violet glassy iris's met with an emotion filled sea green glare, and for a moment, they just stared. Taking it in, drinking their love with parted lips, feeling it ease down their throats like sweet honey and seep and soak into their hearts. It was amazing, like the flurry of wind before a heated storm, warm and caressing. It was like the shimmer of an emerald green dragon fly's wing shining against the sky. It was like the sight of a new born foal balancing on gangly legs for the first time, proud and triumphant. It was like...Nothing they had even experienced.

They sighed happily through delicately parted lips and walked through the threshold with bold and elated steps. No hesitance was needed, no second thoughts or worries. Through that doorway they went, through the doorway that would begin their new lives together in perfection and happiness, like a dream sewn of the purest of silks. Like a fairytale that ends happily ever after, they slipped into the dream of love.

_Herr Mannelig Herr Mannelig, trolofven i mig för det jag bjuder så gerna. I kunnen väl svara endast ja eller nej Om i viljen eller ej?_

The Sve Troll and the young Squire, together at last, wove their final fairytale.

...

**Oh man I'm gonna' cry... I'm sorry for those of you don't like the ending. I tried, I really did. I hope you all liked this story, it warms my heart to see that its made so many people happy. Well, now its done and over, the Sve Troll and the little Squire are together at last, and nothing will ever tear them apart again.**

**Author's Notes:**

**(Yes I tweaked the original Ballad A LOT, so just to let you know)**

-"'Gør dem temmelig.'"* **-"Make them pretty" in Danish.**

-"They were all like dainty and colorful little woodland nymphs and fairies, reminding Tino of the veden väki back home.*" **- A "veden väki" was a Finnish water Elf who deals with healing powers.**

-"After a quick wash of their backs and legs, aided by Feliks, both men felt cleaner and better than ever before.*"** - As well as cleaning them up, the Brides in Viking Scandinavia would go into a sauna to be cleansed of their old life in order to get ready for their lives as wives.**

-"He didn't have any long donkey-ish ears, and he certainly didn't turn to stone in the sunlight, nor did he have a tail...*" - **Trolls are often described as having big floppy ears, tails, and that they turned into stone when they came in contact with sunlight.**

-"She rummaged her hands through her apron like skirts and pulled out two crowns, one with ringlets of dark blue flowers with white flakes of bergfrue cascading in between the strands of twisted grass.*" **- Bergfrue is Norway's national flower.**

-"The other crown was of the same weaved grass, but with lily-of-the-valley peeking up between the strands of wild meadow grass, dots of morning glories also accenting the crown.*"- **Lily-of-the-valley is Finland's National flower.**

-"The mixture smelled like the rolling green hills of Finland after the thunderstorms are split open by Thor's hammer and the wind and rain scatter across the meadow grass, leaving all the flowers and sweet alfalfa hay drenched in cleansing rain."*- **Thor was a major God in Scandinavian lore. He wielded a huge hammer and when he brought it down, it was the cause of the lightning in the sky.**

-"Scrawled on the tree trunk with chalky white paint was a spiraling drawing of the Goddess Freyja, seeming to smile at them and embrace them.*"- **The Goddess Freyja is one of the most widely worshiped Goddess in European Pagan society. She is the patron mother of love and fertility and is still widely worshiped around the world.**

-""Hand your husband's swords to them, hilt first and say these words...'With this sword, will you promise to protect me, through life and limb, danger and destruction, always?' Husbands answer as you will..."*"- **The sword bearing was an important part of a viking wedding ceremony, as the rings were placed on the sword hilt and then taken by the bride and slipped on her finger. The sword was always passed down from one male to the next.**

-"I know you are a mountain troll, from the spawn of Ymir and the frost...*"- **In Norse mythology the Frost giant Ymir was responsible for all the Trolls and giants on the earth. When he slept, more giants were created from his sweat.**

-"Slipping the cool metal onto their ring fingers, they marveled at the way the simple yet sacred stone glowed.*"- **I'm not so sure about Scandinavian Pagan religion, but in the Celtic religion, the white quartz was the stone of the moon and the Goddess.**

-Elizabeta took a bowl of water and a hlaut-teinn from her box and lightly dipped the branch in the water, then, flicking it over the two couples, she regained her voice with a joyful clarity. "I now pronounce you, husband and wife!"*- "**Hlaut-Teinn" was a small branch of a plant used in ceremonies.**

-"Their lungs were burning and gasping for air by the time their eyes met again, a love so pure and shimmering that it seemed to drip from their eyes like Freyja's tears.*"-**Freyja was the Norse Goddess of fertility, and she was so distraught.**

-Herr Mannelig herr Mannelig trolofven i mig för det jag bjuder så gerna. I kunnen väl svara endast ja eller nej Om i viljen eller ej?* - **"Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig betrothed to me for what I offer so willingly. Ye can well answer only yes or no if ye will or not?" in Swedish. **


End file.
